


romeo and cinderella

by allechant



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: there was a one in a million chance that her plan would work. but even if she failed, at least she could say that she tried.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Kagamine Len
Comments: 30
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

One day, she would break free. All of them would look at her with wonder and awe in their eyes, and they'd regret everything they had done to her for they were now out of her favour. One day.

Until then, she was stuck here, but she wouldn't allow mere confinement to stop her from reaching her goals. She was smart – more intelligent than her stepsisters were, at least – and she was certain her plan would work. Hopefully. It was all up to fate, but if she managed to catch his attention, then she had a ticket out of here.

"Why are you staring into space? Get back to work!" Her older stepsister snapped at her, narrowing her eyes. "Help me arrange my dresses. I need to prepare for the ball tomorrow night. Are you _glaring_ at me?" Her voice hardened.

"No, I wouldn't dare," she simpered, forcing a sickly sweet smile on her face. As the girl gloated, she turned a little, wiping the smile off her face – how dare she talk down to her like this.

If their mother had not married her father after her mother died, they wouldn't even be in her home now, leeching off her family's wealth. Her father was no longer here to keep an eye on them, so the sisters did as they pleased. Their mother, now her stepmother, hardly interfered in their activities, so the sisters practically had free rein of the manor.

She knew they were simply jealous of her, jealous that she led a pampered life while growing up whereas they were poor, and had married into the aristocracy. That was why they locked her in the manor and forced her to sleep in the attic. She cooked and cleaned and gardened, though thankfully she was not forced to do heavy chores – they had other servants for that. No, she was only there for show, acting as their personal attendant, but that was more than enough for her wounded pride.

She wasn't even allowed past the gates. Nowadays, all she could see of the outside world was the carriages going past, far out at the main road. She wished she could get out of here – ever since she was fifteen, all she saw were these four walls and the sprawling gardens. There was nothing else in this gated community.

She wiped the already polished surface of her stepsister's wardrobe with a damp cloth. She could see her reflection in the mahogany – green eyes and long teal hair, nothing like the rest of her step-family. She didn't belong here with them.

"Anastasia!" She heard a high-pitched wail as her younger stepsister burst into the older one's room, her hair in complete disarray around her face. "I can't decide what to wear to the ball tomorrow, and my hair is an _absolute_ disaster – I can't leave the house looking like this. I must win the prince's heart!" she insisted.

Anastasia didn't even look up from her knitting. "You've come to the wrong person, Lucinda." She hated that prim, proper way of speaking Anastasia had – it sounded so artificial. "Shouldn't you ask Mother for advice, if you really need it? Or perhaps our dearest stepsister?" She could feel Lucinda's stare boring into her as the other girl turned to face her, finally deciding to acknowledge her presence.

She pretended not to listen. "Her?" Lucinda sounded disgusted, but she wasn't pleased to be associated with the brat, either. Anastasia was older and haughtier, but at least she was not an obnoxious fifteen-year-old who thought the whole world revolved around her every move. "I don't want to be touched by her. She would probably ruin my hair, or cut holes in my dress out of spite."

Lucinda wouldn't be wrong in thinking that. She would certainly do so if she could get away with it. "You know hairstyles and fashion are not my forte. I am only interested in knitting and needlework." Anastasia's words were filled with sarcasm as she repeated the exact phrase Lucinda used to describe her sister just days ago. "I'm afraid I cannot help you, Lucinda. Now get out of my room."

Lucinda glared at her older sister, who just continued to knit. Then she shot her a displeased look and beckoned to her to leave the room with her. Knowing she had no other choice – it was either follow Lucinda or listen to her kicking up a huge fuss – she left the damp cloth on top of the wardrobe and followed the younger girl.

Anastasia and Lucinda's rooms were as different as night and day. The older sister's room was difficult to clean because she kept so much embroidery and knitted crafts everywhere. Lucinda's room, on the other hand, had few embellishments – besides the lacy, flowery curtains that came with every room, a heavy carpet, and the usual bed, dresser and wardrobe, there was little else. However, that was simply because the mess in Lucinda's room was kept elsewhere.

Lucinda opened her wardrobe, and at once at least eight dresses, some formal and some not, slid out of the wardrobe into a pile on the carpet. Lucinda shrieked as some of her precious clothes touched the floor, demanding that she pick them up at once and arrange them properly in her wardrobe. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and did as Lucinda wanted, keen to avoid her hysteria.

"I'm thinking of something frilly. Maybe in pink, or white," Lucinda mused, picking up yet another heavy ballroom dress made of taffeta and silk, entirely too decadent for a child her age. "I will charm His Highness, and he will have eyes for me alone! And we will fall in love and live happily ever after." She clasped her hands, her expression dreamy. "You must not ruin anything for me, or I will never forgive you."

Lucinda was glaring at her. She didn't care. "I would suggest that maybe you try not to overwhelm him with your gift of the gab then," she said. "I hear that men generally prefer quiet ladies." She knew that Lucinda would undoubtedly take offence and complain to Anastasia but at this point, she could hardly find it in herself to worry about that.

Indeed, Lucinda looked offended. "At least I get a chance to meet him, while you are just cooped up here, never able to leave the house!" she fumed. "You're utterly filthy – that's why we call you Cinderella, you know. Because you don't deserve a real name. I bet you can't even remember the name your parents gave you. You're worthless, nothing but ashes and dirt!"

She glared at the brat, who flinched back – rarely did she allow her temper to flare in front of the stepsisters, but this was pushing her patience. She had been putting up with Lucinda's tantrums and insults for an entire week, ever since their household received an invitation to the prince's birthday ball. Even she, with her fear of punishment, had her limits, and Lucinda had finally crossed her boundaries.

"Yes, I do remember my name," she said, keeping her tone calm though she was boiling on the inside. "My name is Hatsune Miku. And one day, you little brat, I _will_ regain my fortune. Do not forget that your luxuries are a result of my family's wealth. Even if I am in this pathetic state now, at least I was never a penniless little chimney sweep like you!"

Lucinda paled. She looked like she had been mortally wounded, her hand placed over her heart – abruptly, she flounced out of the room and ran, no doubt, to her older sister. Miku rolled her eyes, knowing she would definitely get in trouble for her comments, but it felt good to tell Lucinda off. She left the rest of the dresses on the floor and went back up to her attic room, deciding to hide in there as long as she could before she was dragged to the cellar for her punishment.

She hated the cellar. It was dusty and pitch-black, and she sometimes forgot who she was when she was left there for too long. But at least this time she would have the memory of shutting Lucinda up to tide her through the darkness.

* * *

"Romeo died to be with Juliet." He sipped from the glass of wine in his hand. "And unfortunately, I'm not quite dead, so I believe I am unworthy of the nickname. Please stop referring to me that way."

His adopted father, Gakupo, let out a weary sigh. "You do know it's the common folk who call you that, correct? Ever since the rumours of your suicide attempt spread here from the neighbouring town. Perhaps you should not have tried to kill yourself if you did not desire this nickname."

"I wasn't the one who asked to be saved," he answered, glancing out of the window. The hedges needed trimming. His father did not respond, and for a while, there was nothing but tense silence between them.

"Must I really host this ball?" He broke the silence first, starting the conversation with the main reason he sought an audience with Gakupo today. "I am not keen on meeting new people, and would much rather celebrate my birthday with the servants in the palace. Why must you always force me into these social situations?" He didn't _like_ entertaining people. It was one of the few things he disliked about being a prince, and he still wasn't used to it.

"I am tired of you pining over a dead girl, and it is also part of the king's duty to ensure a clear line of succession." His father's reply was calm. It was odd; he thought Gakupo might have lost patience by now since this was the fifth time he was asking this question. "Host the ball, meet someone you can tolerate for more than five minutes, then produce an heir. Is that really such a difficult thing to ask for?"

At this question, he turned around, giving Gakupo a _look_. His father smiled, closing his eyes. "It's about time for you to move on. How long has it been? Three years, isn't it?"

He didn't answer, so Gakupo took his silence as an affirmative. "Do not think you are doing this out of love. It is merely a duty – a duty to your bloodline, the throne and the country. That is the task of a prince, who above all honours his country. We do not want a repeat of the civil war that came with an uncertain succession all those years ago," he said. Len sighed but didn't protest.

"You know," he started, sipping his wine again, "during that turmoil, I was already _this_ close to becoming the prince." He held his thumb and index finger together, a visual representation. "But it was only because you were victorious that I am even standing here now. Isn't fate a funny thing?"

Gakupo merely stared at Len, who looked back with a firm, if challenging, resolve. Gakupo knew the moment he chose this boy to be his son that he might one day regret his decision. He might one day wish he abandoned him on the streets to die, for he had been a complete stranger, and he was under no obligation to save him.

But when he saw the young adolescent threatening to end his life, the desperation and fierce hatred in those blue eyes reminded Gakupo of himself. The same drive and rage that he once possessed in his youth – he couldn't possibly let such fire burn out just like that. "Some people would say it is due to luck that you are here. And that you are fortunate to still be alive."

Len shrugged. "And that may be so. Sometimes, I disagree." He turned back to face the window, but this time he knocked over the open bottle of wine he had placed so precariously on the windowsill. Gakupo could not help but wonder if he had done that in an attempt to end the conversation. "Ah," Len said, in a tone that did not seem particularly surprised.

"Call for Gumi. Ask her to come and clean up the mess," Gakupo ordered. Len nodded, sauntering towards the doors – there were no guards or servants present in the throne room as Len had requested a private audience, but there ought to be some servants waiting outside.

"Yes, Your Highness?" One of the servants spoke as soon as Len opened the door. Len glanced at the stain that was steadily spreading across the carpet. Beckoning the servant closer, he pointed at the stain, and the servant immediately sprang into action, hurrying in to pick up the bottle. "Of course. I will get Gumi."

"You could have picked it up yourself, you know," Gakupo said. Len just chuckled and lifted his glass to his lips, draining the rest of the wine.

"Then why didn't _you_? I was carrying out your orders, after all," he answered with a knowing glint in his eyes. Gakupo sighed and shook his head. Talking to Len sometimes felt like arguing with a brick wall.

He got up from the throne, walking over to the stain to observe it. His long robes swished around him, ridiculously heavy. It would be so much more convenient to not put them on, but as the king, he couldn't simply wear whatever he wanted to. "This will be difficult to wash out. I can hear Gumi nagging already."

"Gumi needs to get a male companion," Len muttered, to which Gakupo held back a laugh. That was very true. "She believes that cleaning is the one true joy in the world – she needs to see _more_ of the world," he continued.

Nakajima Gumi was the head servant and Gakupo's personal attendant. She helped to arrange his meetings, checked his meals and oversaw the royal household. Her twin brother, Nakajima Gumo, was Len's personal butler and performed many of the same duties as his sister – or he would have if Len had not been extremely independent, with an evident inability to let go of things. The Nakajima twins were perfectionists who terrorised the rest of the servants with their high expectations and unrealistic standards.

Nevertheless, they were friendly. Len thought they were quite delightful to talk to, both of them being well-educated and capable of holding their own when discussing topics of interest. "She is too attached to her job," Gakupo agreed. "I ought to get her outdoors a bit more…which is _why_ the ball ought to go ahead!" He pivoted the conversation back to where they were earlier, much to Len's chagrin. "It will keep the servants busy and allow for a change in scenery. It will probably do you good as well. Put some colour back in that face of yours."

"Maybe I don't want colour in my face," he mumbled. "I don't want to talk to any of these fools. Do you hear what the ladies have to say, most of the time? _Oh, Your Highness, you're so handsome! So charming! I would do anything you ask of me!_ " he simpered. Gakupo snorted. "I will host this ball, but don't expect me to find a wife because I can firmly assure you, none of them will meet my expectations."

There was a ring of finality in his words, and even Gakupo did not wish to start another argument, so he let it go. "Very well, if that is what you say. But you should have found a wife or at least someone of _interest_ by now," he said. Len opened his mouth to protest but he cut him off. "You're already twenty-one. You should have found another fiancée after you recovered, and your lack of one is why these women continue flocking to you."

"Flocking to me is one thing. Calling me by that accursed nickname is another. _Prince Romeo, Prince Romeo, how art thou, Prince Romeo?_ " he mocked, earning another snort. "I hate that nickname. You know, I'm not some tragic lovelorn hero. I'm just a former nobleman who made a terrible choice, and they need to stop romanticising that because it's getting…annoying."

And it also felt like a slap in the face of his dead beloved. No one remembered who she was, because she was _dead_ and he had failed to kill himself to join her. Why was Romeo remembered and not Juliet?

Before Gakupo could respond, there was a loud knock on the door. The next second Gumi burst in, her hair tied into a perfect bun, her green eyes narrowing at them in suspicion. "Who created this mess?" she demanded, pointing at the dark stain that marred the carpet – it had finally stopped spreading and was now about the size of a dinner plate. Despite her disrespectfulness, neither Gakupo nor Len batted an eyelid. They were both used to what Gumi was like when she was agitated. No one wanted to be scolded by the head servant.

"I did," Len admitted, trying his best to sound guilty. Gumi turned on him, eyes flashing accusatorily, and began mumbling so quietly he could not hear her – though he guessed it was something to do with the mess, his carelessness and how much work it would take to get the stain out. He was constantly amused by how obsessed Gumi and her twin brother were with cleanliness. They were almost fanatical about it, as though cleaning was some kind of religious experience.

"I've stated time and time again, Your Highness," she said as one of the servants came huffing and puffing into the room, carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies. "Please do not drink wine in the throne room. Do you know how difficult it is to get red wine out of wool? It took two weeks' worth of scrubbing the previous time. We beg you to make our lives a little easier," she added, kneeling on the carpet and grabbing a wet cloth from the bucket the servant placed beside her. The servant bowed and scampered out of the room, looking glad to get away from Gumi.

"I deeply apologise, Gumi," Len said, very much aware of Gakupo smirking behind him. "I will be careful in the future. If you can get the stain out, I will give you permission to arrange for nothing but carrot-themed dinners for a week," he promised, noting with satisfaction the way Gakupo's smirk fell off his face.

"No, Your Highness! Do not try to distract me!" Gumi exclaimed. Though she did look pleased with the mention of carrot-themed dinners. "I will not be swayed from this topic just because of carrots! There must not be any next time. This shall be the final time!" She was still scrubbing away, and he idly wondered how long it would take this time. "I beseech you, Your Highness – please partake of wine only in the dining room or in your room, which is easier to clean."

"If I'm in the mood," he answered, exchanging a look with Gakupo. Gumi gave up at that, knowing that pressing further would be outright disrespect. She went back to muttering under her breath and Len had no doubt that it was nothing flattering. Gumi had been here for longer than his father had been king – she was born and raised in the palace, while Gakupo had only been in power for the last five years. As a result, everyone had a certain respect for her.

Well, perhaps it was time for him to leave. He had done enough here. But before he could step out, Gumi looked up again from her scrubbing, her hair starting to come loose from its bun. Her face was turning pink from exertion. "Your Highness, there is a rumour floating about that you are to find your true love at the ball – that you will finally find a new Juliet. Probably started by one of the servant girls…" He turned back to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think there is any truth to that?"

"Unlikely," he answered. "No one could ever replace _my_ Juliet." His voice lowered, becoming colder, and Gumi's scrubbing slowed a little – it was rare to hear him sounding this way. He normally tried to sound pleasant, if not friendly. "If the solution to my problems was simply to hold a ball, then someone else would have entered my life long ago, and I wouldn't be in this state now. But the fact remains that no one has been able to take her place."

He shouldn't be taking his irritation out on her, but this was a sensitive topic and talking about the ball with Gakupo had left him on edge. Gumi blinked at him. "I see. In that case, I will let the servants know to stop discussing this rumour," she answered, and he had to give her credit for her calmness. He felt a bit guilty about snapping at her – he'd find a way to make up for it later. "It would still be difficult to squash the rumours, nevertheless. Many ladies are excited about this ball, or so I hear."

"No thanks to His Majesty." Len cast his father an accusing look. Gakupo smiled, clearly pleased to have included that one line in all the stupid invitations about Len looking for a bride. "I don't want to get married. His Majesty forced this on me." Gakupo did not acknowledge that. "But on another note, could you get the servants to stop calling me Romeo? They all know my name – tell them to use it."

What a stupid nickname. Gumi's lips curved up and she bowed her head slightly. "As you wish, Your Highness," she responded, and he nodded. Having said everything he wanted to say, he headed out of the room, leaving the king and the head servant behind.

"He's in a foul mood today, isn't he?" she remarked. Gakupo made a small sound of assent. He was a fair ruler, not cruel and hard-hearted like the previous king, and he treated all his staff with respect. Gumi enjoyed working for him. "I hardly see him get this snappy. He has his mood swings, but he doesn't often express his opinions."

Gakupo sighed. "Well, he's growing up. To be fair, he grew up a lot faster than most others, and given the way he was thrust into adulthood…is it really a surprise that he didn't change for the better?" He reached into her bucket and handed her another soap-laden cloth before she could protest.

He sounded wistful, his deep blue eyes staring into the distance. Gumi knew better than to ask questions when he was reminiscing like this, so she ducked her head and went back to cleaning. A trademark of a good servant was the ability to turn invisible – servants were meant to be seen and not heard. They did not have any presence, so for now, she made sure to hide hers.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire morning, and for most of the afternoon too, Anastasia and Lucinda were busy preparing for the ball, Lucinda having ordered her stepsister to help her. She was threatened with punishment if she refused, so she grudgingly offered her assistance, though sometimes she wondered if the cellar would be preferable.

Miku was now braiding Lucinda's hair, yanking as hard as she could whenever the opportunity arose. The girl yelped and complained whenever she pulled, telling her to be gentle with her hair, but Miku explained that if she didn't pull the hairstyle would be too loose, and then it wouldn't look nice. Always one to suffer for her beauty, Lucinda fell silent, much to Miku's pleasure.

One thing that could be said about Lucinda was that she had a terrible sense of colour coordination. The gown she insisted on wearing today was a horrible, garish affair made with pink lace and ribbons, and it clashed awfully with her red hair. Unable to keep quiet at such atrociousness, even if it _was_ being worn by Lucinda, Miku had suggested changing to a muted, pale green gown that was much easier on the eyes. However, Lucinda insisted on wearing the pink terror and accused Miku of trying to destroy her attempts at happiness. Miku gave up and decided there was no love lost between the two of them – if Lucinda wanted to be the laughingstock of the ball then, by all means, she could go ahead.

"Cinderella!" Anastasia called through the door, and Miku cringed. The nickname was a joke the stepsisters thought hilarious – to give her the same name as the servant in the fairy tale who, much like her, cleaned the house and had a stepfamily. On the bright side, Cinderella found happiness and married her prince. She would find a way to escape too.

"Yes?" she answered, resenting her meekness. She wished she could spit insults at the girl, but she held back – she had to save her energy for the ball, where she could outshine her stepsisters and make them regret everything they ever did to her. And to do that, she needed to be able to leave the manor, which would be impossible if she was punished with the cellar again.

"Why did you stop?" Lucinda demanded, staring lovingly at her reflection as Miku's fingers stopped weaving her hair. "Don't let that old cow distract you." The brat snapped her fingers, and Miku glanced at her, eyes narrowing in distaste. "Focus on me! I need to be the loveliest woman the prince has ever seen so he will fall for me instantly. I will be his Juliet, and we will live happily ever after," she sighed.

It would be cruel to shake Lucinda out of her daydream since she knew it would never come true, so she kept quiet and let the girl continue fantasising. Anastasia entered Lucinda's room then, looking as haughty as ever – her chestnut hair was swept into a bun, the smooth locks shining softly. She wore a periwinkle gown that cinched in at the waist, flaring out at the hips to provide the illusion of a figure. Despite Lucinda's self-proclaimed love for fashion, Anastasia was admittedly much better at dressing herself than the younger stepsister was.

But Anastasia's sweet appearance didn't hide the malicious intent in her eyes. "Well, Cinderella," her lips curled into a sneer, "we are going to leave in fifteen minutes. Hurry and get Lucinda ready. Don't forget to clean the house while we are gone, and have supper prepared upon our return. If I see a single speck of dust on my dresser, you'll be in the cellar for a week." Miku nodded while she fumed, keeping her gaze fixed on Lucinda's hair.

Done with her, Anastasia next turned her attention towards her sister. "Lucinda, you look ridiculous in this outfit. Don't tell anyone at the ball that we are related. It would do nothing but shame me." And with that, she swept out of the room as quickly as she entered.

The door had barely closed behind her when Lucinda got into one of her screaming fits, complaining about how Anastasia was just jealous of her beauty and how she was an old hag who couldn't even find a suitor. Miku sighed and continued to braid her hair – she was personally of the opinion that such an intricate hairstyle, this mass of braids and pins that Lucinda demanded, would just clash with her complicated dress and make her look even more horrifying. However, with the brat already in such a state, she thought it would be better to just hold her tongue.

A while later, she stood at the door, watching the horses clop off with the carriage carrying her stepfamily. The carriage was heading up the hill towards the palace, which was located some distance away from here – the townhouses of the aristocrats were all somewhat close to each other, and they nestled in the shadows of the kingdom's imposing palace.

She waited until the carriage was so far away that her stepsisters wouldn't see her even if they decided to look back at the manor. Then she hurried inside to get ready her outfit for the night. No matter what, she had to attend – she would be the one to steal the prince's heart. Not that she cared for love or romance – she would hate to tie herself down, and being royalty was the last thing on her mind. No, she just needed a way to get out of this manor for good.

For six years of her life, she was treated as inferior, a servant in her own home. Her stepsisters mocked her, tried to tear down her spirit and make her forget her family name – make her forget that, as a Hatsune, she had all the rights to her fortune. In the past, she would never have been able to pull off something like this, for they never all three stepped out this way, but thankfully the prince's ball was something they deemed important enough to attend all at once.

If she didn't have to think about other things she'd just escape from here, the ball be damned, but she'd very much like to fight for her inheritance and she couldn't do that by running away. She'd see to it that they got kicked out onto the streets with no means of help. If marrying into the royal family would let her escape her stepsisters' clutches _while_ giving her the clout she needed to exact her revenge, then so be it.

Not that she had much choice, anyway. With what she managed to salvage of her inheritance being mostly sentimental in value, she had little to barter with, and no one would help a penniless maiden out of the virtue of their hearts. She was desperate for freedom, but she wasn't stupid.

She _had_ considered travelling on foot to a nearby town, or earning her passage on a ship across the oceans – but she wasn't too sure where the nearest port was, and if she was being realistic, her stepsisters would almost definitely find her before she got anywhere. Which was why she came up with this ridiculous plan. The royal family would no doubt protect her, and she would be free to do whatever she wanted.

This idea came to mind when one morning, a week ago, she collected the mail and found out there would be a ball to celebrate the prince's birthday. The king's adopted son of three years was still single – this ball would be the perfect opportunity for the many girls adamant on winning his affections. The invitation said the ball was open to anyone who dressed and behaved appropriately, and it was then that she realised she could use this as a means to escape. After all, they did not need proof that she was aristocracy.

It didn't take long for her to finalise her plan, and tonight, she would bring that plan to fruition. Rushing back up to the attic, she opened her shabby wardrobe – when compared to her stepsisters' spacious closets, hers could only hang five sets of the same drab uniform she wore every day – and carefully felt her way to the very back, which she had covered with scraps of cloth from Anastasia's craft projects. She reached underneath the mass of softness, and her searching fingers found the edge of a hard box.

She retrieved the box. It was medium-sized, and there was nothing particularly eye-catching about it. The box itself was simple, made with varnished wood, but it was one of the boxes her mother had used to store her dresses in the past, and Miku treasured it greatly. Sitting on her threadbare bed – she felt a spring shift beneath her weight – she lifted the lid, smiling at what she saw within.

There were three dresses inside, dresses she had managed to save from her father when he went on a mournful rampage, destroying everything that reminded him of her dead mother. They would be perfect for the ball, which would be held over three nights. She took out the first dress, feeling the heavy, smooth weight of silk in her hands. Nuzzling the fabric against her cheek, she sighed as she thought about the last time she saw this dress being worn. This was one of her mother's favourite dresses.

It was pure white, elegant but simple. The bodice dipped in gracefully and the skirt flared, creating a lovely shape even when the dress was unworn. There was a single silver rosebud adorning the bosom, and the slight train of the dress made it look like something from a fairy tale. Her mother looked every inch the regal fairy queen when she wore this dress, and it was a sight that inspired her endlessly when she was a child. Now, she would be the one wearing this dress, and she would hold close the spirit of her dear mother when she put it on.

After helping Lucinda with her hair, Miku had bathed – she even used some of the bath oils Lucinda kept in vast quantities in the bathing chamber, and now she felt so fresh that she glowed. It had been a while since she last took a proper bath. She thought that the stepsisters would be gone by the time she was done bathing, but apparently, Lucinda had caused some kind of delay, and they only began to leave when Miku came out of Lucinda's bathing chamber, patting her hair dry. She kept out of sight until they were in the carriage.

Her stepmother was the only one who bothered to look back when they left. She frowned – she was ambivalent about her stepmother, for the woman never did anything to hurt or humiliate her. However, she didn't try to stop her daughters either, and the woman seemed to have no control whatsoever in this household. It was almost as though she didn't exist. Her stepmother was rarely home, and even when she was, she holed herself up in her room, so much that Miku sometimes couldn't quite remember what she looked like.

She only remembered that her stepmother had green eyes, much like her own – she recalled this because Anastasia and Lucinda both had brown eyes, probably taking after their father. This was fortunate because if the stepsisters had green eyes too, Miku might be tempted to gouge hers out.

She realised she was getting carried away by her thoughts, and quickly she put on the silver dress she was holding. She had tried it on before just to see how it would fit, so she had no trouble putting it on again. Still, she didn't know what it looked like on her since there was no mirror in her attic, so she hurried to Lucinda's room, which had a full-length mirror beside the wardrobe.

She made sure to grab a silver masquerade mask from underneath her bed as she went out of the attic to match the theme of the ball. Upon receiving the invitation, the stepsisters had brought home plenty of masks from the market, and she simply stole a few when they were not paying attention.

It was difficult to hurry to Lucinda's room, given that it had been six years since she last wore such a long dress. When she finally stepped inside the room and faced the mirror, she exhaled in relief – it was everything she had hoped for and more. Her reflection showed not a servant, bullied and oppressed by her stepsisters, but instead a girl who looked excited to attend a ball, her cheeks flushed a light pink, her silvery dress rippling with a soft radiance that reminded her of moonlight.

She knew she was attractive. Her whole life she was complimented on her beauty, and the older she grew, the more she blossomed. But for the past few years, she had almost forgotten that – being covered in dirt and dust, not being allowed to take a bath, and always being at her stepsisters' beck and call had taken a mental toll on her. They told her that she was lucky to have a roof over her head and that no man would be interested in someone as freakish as her. Even though she knew they were lying she could not help but be affected. The girl in the mirror, however, was the complete opposite of what her stepsisters claimed.

Twirling in her dress, she laughed as the girl spun with her, green eyes sparkling with excitement. Then she paused – though she would love to continue staring at her reflection, admiring how much a mere bath could change her, she had to get ready. Deciding to go with the simple, elegant look, she wound her long hair up into a bun. Then she turned to Lucinda's dresser to find the perfect accessory and saw a small, silver butterfly pin. She pinned it in her hair, satisfied with her overall appearance, and then she was ready to go.

Holding up her dress, she went back to the attic, this time carefully stepping onto her rickety stool. She felt along the top of her wardrobe and found a small box – another treasure her mother had left for her, the most perfect pair of dainty glass heels she had ever seen. It was not true glass, for glass would break. Instead, it was some kind of hard, transparent crystal with a clear finish that gave it the sparkle of glass. It fit her feet well – thankfully since she'd be wearing this all three nights.

She walked confidently down the attic stairs. Ever since she became aware of the ball, she had been practising moving in heels at night, when everyone else was asleep. The constant practice had paid off since she could now balance enough to dance in these shoes, though admittedly the heels were not very high, to begin with.

Now, she just had to get to the palace. There was _no way_ she was going to walk up that hill, even if the palace was technically within walking distance. She decided to approach the neighbours for help, hoping that they would not turn away a girl in need. Most of the nobles would be attending, and there was sure to be a good number of carriages preparing to head to the palace. She thought she looked lovely enough that people wouldn't just ignore her.

In the end, it took three attempts. After leaving the manor, she walked to the house opposite. However, they had many daughters and their carriage was full. The next carriage belonged to an old man who stared at her in a rather disturbing manner, so she politely declined his offer. With increasing desperation, she looked for the next carriage, and thankfully the final noble family was able to accommodate her.

They only had one son and his mother attending, so they allowed her to go with them. She explained that her impatient family had set off without her while she was bathing, which was why she had to shamelessly solicit for a carriage ride up to the palace. The son, a pleasant young man, told her she was free to join them for the next two nights if she wished, and she thanked him for his offer.

It was not long before they reached the palace, and he helped her down onto the grass, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. _If you wish for a dance partner, you can always look for me_ , he told her, and she said she would think about it. She had to admit he was a nice man, but he was not the person she wanted to attract.

She walked towards the palace. The main doors were open and the guests were pouring in, an unending stream of people. The servants were giving directions and attending to the nobles. One of them, a girl with green hair combed into a bun, told her that the ballroom was down the main passage, followed by a right turn. "Just follow the gaggle of excited ladies and you will know you have arrived," she added. She appeared to be getting impatient, even as she strove to maintain her respectful demeanour.

She thanked her for the directions and set off. The ballroom came into sight soon enough, the imposing grand doors swung wide open for the guests. Music was streaming out from the ballroom – it came from an entire orchestra, and she swayed gently, recognising one of her favourite music pieces. It would be nice to dance now, but she had to meet the prince first.

Dancing was one of the few aristocratic things that she enjoyed. As a child, she never liked the rest of her subjects, such as playing the piano or learning foreign languages or needlework – she studied those out of obligation. But dancing had always been, and still was, something she passionately threw herself into.

The ballroom was festive. No one was dancing yet since the prince had not started, but there were couples chattering and groups of people spread all over the room. She could see a buffet at one side, a delicious-looking array of finger foods spread out to feed the guests. Servers were walking in between people, offering wine and snacks on silver platters. The orchestra was playing on the other side of the room, with curious guests observing them.

Miku turned away, looking for the prince instead. It was not difficult to find him – she noticed a long line of girls queueing in the middle of the room, and guessed that the boy at the other end was the prince. There was probably no harm in introducing herself as well, so she decided to join the queue.

People turned as she crossed the ballroom. She didn't miss the looks and glances but pretended to ignore the whispers. Of course, they would be curious. Hatsune Miku had not been seen in public for six years. She sometimes wondered what people thought had happened to her, but this was the first time it hit her so truly – the fact that people had no idea who she was. What should she introduce herself as? She couldn't use her real name, not with her stepfamily attending the ball as well.

This was one part of the plan she had not thought about. The queue, though long, moved surprisingly quickly, and by the time she was the next person to greet the prince, she still had yet to find a good name. Every name she thought of, she had a reason to shoot down – too common, too pompous, too unbecoming of the aristocracy.

She could hear the girls around her chattering as she brainstormed, talking about how charming the prince was, how handsome he was, how he seemed to linger a bit longer with her – but no, he smiled at _her_ , she would have a chance – and then another girl claiming he almost kissed her. The air around her was feverish with excitement, but she felt strangely removed from it all. Who was she? Who was this girl standing here, participating in these activities? What was her name?

She stepped forward, and her gaze fell upon the prince. She had seen him earlier but she did not get a clear glimpse of him as he was surrounded by so many girls at that time. But now that she was looking at him, she realised that what all these girls were saying was _true_ – that he really was very handsome. She had thought they might be exaggerating, for the girls even compared his beauty to that of angels, but now she could understand why they were fawning over him so.

He looked like what one would imagine a prince to look like, with flaxen hair and deep blue eyes. They were visible from behind his mask, reminding her of pools of water – she couldn't tell how deep they were, and it would be so easy to drown in them. His blond hair was tied into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. She looked away from his eyes and his hair, looking at him as a whole – or at least she tried, given that a mask was covering the upper half of his face.

He was stunning. Even disregarding those intense blue eyes, he had a defined jawline and high cheekbones with lips that were slightly too pouty, almost feminine. He was taller than her, even with her heels on. She would have called him pretty rather than handsome were it not for the determined set of his jaw.

"Good evening, Prince…Romeo," she greeted him, realising belatedly that she did not know his name. So, she used the nickname that all the girls before her had whispered. "My name is…Cinderella, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She curtsied, mentally scolding herself for introducing herself this way, but it was the first name that had come to mind. He would no doubt think she was playing some kind of prank, and if he was not the type to react well to jokes…well, this was not the first impression she wanted to make.

When she looked up, he was staring at her. "Do you take me for a fool? Your name is Cinderella?" he asked. His voice was smooth as honey, and the conversation might have been enjoyable if it wasn't going so badly. "Perhaps you thought it amusing that people call me Romeo. Introducing yourself as Juliet might have been more entertaining." He smiled – she was unsure if he found her funny or if he was simply mocking her. Most likely the latter.

"My name _is_ Cinderella." If she was going to lie, she might as well lie thoroughly. "My parents enjoyed fairy tales and decided to name their first daughter after their favourite princess. I have long grown used to people mocking my name, so it is fine if you wish to laugh as well, Prince Romeo." She did not intend to be sarcastic, but it was a reflex, her way of protecting herself whenever her stepsisters insulted her. She looked down, concerned – would he punish her for her insolence?

She felt fingers tilting her chin up, and she instinctively tried to pull away – he did not let go, studying her as he tipped her head from one side to the other. What he was searching for, she did not know, and she was tempted to ask him to remove his hands from her person. She would have if her future did not hinge so desperately on her ridiculous plan. He _had_ to fall in love with her.

"Cinderella, you say?" he finally murmured. She was on the verge of panic since it felt like it had been an awfully long time since she first introduced herself. Usually, the queue moved quickly, but she had been standing here for a while now, and she could hear discontented mutters behind her. "I don't believe that for an instant, like how you surely do not think my real name is Romeo." He released her, and instinctively she took a step back.

She resisted the urge to glare at her feet, staring back at him as he tried to intimidate her. Or at least, she assumed that was what he was doing since why else would he keep looking at her this way? "If you tell me your real name, I'll tell you mine," he offered, much to her surprise. She blinked, and he smiled at her.

It looked like a genuine smile. Miku had hidden her feelings long enough to know what a real smile looked like. She could feel the amusement coming off him in waves. Hastily, she shook her head, but then she caught herself – did she just refuse the prince? She glanced at him, and his blue eyes had darkened. Yes, she certainly was leaving an impression, but likely not the kind that she wanted.

He extended a hand. "Dance with me," he said, and it sounded more like an order than a request. The girls behind her gasped and muttered, and she shook her head again, taking another step back. She didn't know what she had expected from her plan, but it wasn't this – she thought he would be like any other male noble her age, easy to charm and trick, but this was far beyond what she assumed.

He was not playful. In fact, he seemed almost dangerous. His cordiality might have fooled the ones who came before her, but she could see in the grim set of his mouth that he was far from kind.

"You cannot refuse." His smile returned, this time almost cold. "I'm the prince, and this ball was held in my honour – if I ask you to dance, it would be rude to decline. But shall I rephrase it? _Please_ dance with me, Cinderella." The whole time he spoke his gaze never left hers, and she struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

"The other girls have been awaiting their turn for a while now," she finally said. She did not particularly care about those girls, but this sounded like a good reason to turn him down. She doubted he wanted to dance with her because he found her attractive. Maybe he would lose interest if she pretended to be considerate.

"They can continue to wait." He glanced behind her, uninterested. "I grow tired of seeing an endless array of faces, and I wish to enjoy a dance with a lovely girl. Would you not grant me my wish?" His eyes bored into hers. She wanted to protest – she wanted to say she was definitely not a lovely girl – but she could sense his growing impatience as she struggled. There was a clear warning in his expression, and she would prefer not to know what were the consequences of denying him, so resignedly she took his hand.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it _Cinderella_?" He emphasised her name, so she knew he did not believe her. That was only to be expected. However, as he swept her towards the centre of the ballroom, past the queue of angry girls, she wanted to cringe away from him and all the eyes she felt staring at her. She had a sense that she was now caught up in something far beyond her control, but she hoped she could wriggle free somehow. He would surely lose interest in her before long.


	3. Chapter 3

The ballroom shushed the moment everyone noticed he was with someone. He smiled back at the staring guests, keeping a firm hold on the girl – he could feel her trying to squirm free, and he tightened his grip.

The orchestra began to play a waltz. He remembered the steps like he remembered the back of his hand, and he led her to the centre of the ballroom, getting into position with his left arm outstretched and his right hand on the small of her back. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, albeit reluctantly, and their dance began.

Following tradition, he led the first dance. This girl who called herself Cinderella was a good dancer, and she kept up with him easily, which impressed him somewhat. He sensed her gradually relaxing – her fingers no longer dug into his shoulder, and a slow smile had crept over her face. One by one, other couples joined them on the dance floor, and once it was crowded enough he decided he should be able to talk to her without anyone overhearing their conversation.

There was sufficient gossip floating around about him finding his fiancée at the ball. He didn't want people to assume there was anything scandalous between him and this girl just because they were dancing together. She was simply… _interesting_.

"You like dancing, Cinderella?" The name rolled surprisingly easily off his tongue. She looked up at the sound of her name, her smile dimming slightly. Truthfully, it was pleasant to run into someone who didn't seem too keen on him – he had been entirely prepared to go through these three nights making vapid small talk with people who didn't interest him. At least she was different from the rest.

"I suppose." She sounded cautious. He observed her, with her pink-tinted cheeks and the fierce green eyes he could see through her mask. Her indifference towards him was refreshing. Surely a façade – perhaps she thought this act might attract him – but sadly, he had to admit it was working. It was the first time a girl did not care for his attention, after all. Even those who did not think of him as particularly attractive still flocked to him due to his status as royalty.

"You sound unenthused. That strikes me as odd – a lovely girl who can dance so well must surely enjoy dancing with a passion," he answered. She simply averted her gaze, concentrating on her feet. The mask she wore looked a little like his, he realised – where her mask was white, his was black, and they both had the same crystal teardrops attached to the right corner.

"Perhaps we obtained our masks from the same vendor. They look similar," he pointed out, another attempt to begin a conversation. She nodded but did not say anything, and he wondered if she was simply playing coy or if she was genuinely uninterested in him. He hoped the latter. It was always fun to be challenged.

Sure, she was beautiful. He could tell – she had full, pouty lips and silky long hair twisted up in a simple bun. Her hair was distinctive, a soft, shimmery teal, and it complemented her green eyes. He much preferred her simple, elegant look. Some of the other girls had ridiculous hairstyles. A younger girl who greeted him earlier, wearing a horrible ruffled pink dress, had her hair done up in a thick mass of braids that resembled a warped beehive.

"It would be nice if you took off this mask for me," he whispered, leaning in slightly during a slow dance. Up until that point, neither of them had spoken, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was still moving, he might have thought she had fallen asleep.

She seemed startled by his sudden comment. "And why so, Your Highness?" she asked. "Is this not a masquerade ball? The night and the fun ends the moment the masks are removed." He was entertained by her response – she actually countered him, rather than just giggling like most other noble ladies. "I'll take my mask off if you remove yours first," she added, and he laughed.

"But as you mentioned, the magic will disappear once I remove my mask. Besides, do you not already know what Prince Romeo looks like?" He used the name mockingly. This nickname had gotten out of hand – most people in the country either did not know his real name or had forgotten what it was. Though he would prefer that people stopped calling him Romeo, he had also given up trying to get them to remember his real name.

"I don't," she answered, to his surprise. The fact that he felt compelled to believe her surprised him even more. "I was raised elsewhere, and I only came to this country recently to live with my aunt. I attended the ball because she asked me to." She paused, sounding a little uncomfortable. "Besides the fact you're the prince, I know very little about you. I believe there are girls who would make better conversation partners than I, still awaiting their turn to dance with you."

"But they do not interest me," he replied, smiling at her. He watched as she grimaced, secretly amused by her reaction. She was like a breath of fresh air – that was probably due to her upbringing since she mentioned she was raised in another land. Perhaps they had different customs for speaking with royalty. He was glad she was not stiff, formal and nervous like so many others who spoke to him.

His father's words ran through his mind. About finding a companion, if not a lover. Someone new to talk to who wasn't one of the palace servants. He was beginning to take quite a shine to this girl, so perhaps he could consider what Gakupo said. "Cinderella, if that is truly your name," he started, "I grow weary of dancing. Would you like to visit the rose gardens with me?" He smiled at her, hoping to coax the reluctant girl into spending more time with him. "The roses are in bloom now, and the gardens smell lovely. It is a rare opportunity to further explore the palace," he added. Surely such an offer would intrigue a foreigner like her.

She hesitated. They had stopped dancing, and as the orchestra switched to a fast-paced, upbeat piece, the dancing couples sped up too, turning and moving around them. They were like the eye of a tornado, the calm in the centre of the storm. He wondered what was on her mind – he was fairly good at guessing what others were thinking, but with her mask in the way, it was difficult to read her eyes. He hoped she would agree because it was true he tired of the ball and he wanted to enjoy some time away from it all. Finally, she gave him a small nod.

He led her out of the ballroom. Gumi, who was stationed outside the door, stared at the two of them, but he placed a finger against his lips. "Tell the king that I'm with someone if he happens to ask," he whispered. Gumi nodded and he went on his way, tugging on Cinderella's hand as they headed towards the rose gardens.

Miku wondered what she had gotten herself into. She was reconsidering her plan – Romeo did not appear to be as gullible as she thought he would be. It might be difficult to charm him simply with her looks and manner like she originally intended. And if let's say he _did_ marry her – she was wary of his penetrating stare and the slyness in his words, and she thought that life with him might not be any easier than it was with her stepsisters. He was too…unpredictable.

Should she carry on with her plan, then? Marriage was certainly the fastest way to _legally_ escape the manor – if she became desperate then there were other methods she could consider, but she would rather not hurt anyone unless it was necessary. Her only concern was that her present plan was akin to jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. The two of them shared far too many similarities for her to feel comfortable around him, and she doubted she'd be able to do as she pleased even if she married him.

As she thought to herself, weighing the pros and cons of her plan, she suddenly felt the night breeze against her face and smelled the fragrance of roses – she blinked, noticing that they were walking into the palace grounds. Romeo led her down a short path, and at the end of it was the entrance to the rose gardens. It was a lovely sight to behold, with sprawling bushes and marble pillars and gorgeous full blooms everywhere. The dim light of the moon made the flowers look dark, but the scent of roses was intoxicating and she found herself inhaling deeply, mesmerised by the view before her. She had never seen so many roses all at once before.

Miku had heard rumours about the rose gardens – Anastasia mentioned them once when she suddenly developed an interest in flower arrangement – but she never thought they would be this beautiful. She was never particularly interested in flowers, but these roses were stunning. "It's gorgeous enough during the day," Romeo mused beside her, "but at night the gardens look very different. It has an enchanting sort of loveliness few have the privilege to see."

The last time she recalled seeing roses was back when she was little. Her family's summer cottage had a rose garden, though it was far smaller than this one. She pushed the memory away. "It _is_ lovely at night," she agreed. "But I think I would like to see the roses during the day. I imagine they would look very different." She meant what she said. Though she was still suspicious of him, she could not find fault with how well maintained the gardens were. The bushes were perfectly trimmed, the flowers were strong and graceful, and she could tell a great deal of effort was expended to keep everything looking this way.

She watched the full, heavy heads of the blooms stretching towards the moonlight and was tempted to reach for one of them. She held back, aware that these flowers were not her property. But, as though he could read her mind, Romeo stepped closer to one of the bushes and plucked a rose, its delicate petals unfurling as he moved. "A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," he said, and she saw him smile as he tucked the rose into her hair, being careful not to scratch her with its thorns.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, feeling amused despite herself. He couldn't even see her face. If this was his attempt at flattery, then it wasn't working on her. "For all you know, I could be absolutely hideous beneath this mask." Part of her wondered why she was doing this. She was supposed to play along and make him fall in love with her, not act completely uninterested. But she couldn't help herself. There was something about him that made her want to challenge him.

"Beauty is not merely about appearances." She could see his lips curving in the moonlight. "It could also be about one's character or strength of mind. There are many aspects to beauty, Cinderella." The name slid like honey off his tongue. It was the first time she heard anyone make her nickname sound good. What would her actual name sound like in his voice? "I don't need to see your face to think that you are beautiful. To tell the truth, I _am_ rather interested in who you are."

She inhaled. That sounded like…did her idea actually work? She thought they had started things on the wrong foot. Surely it could not be this easy. His intentions were difficult to read, and she was still suspicious of him. "I am honoured, Your Highness. But what if I do not return your interest?"

"It is fine if you are not interested in me as a lover," he answered, to her surprise. "Despite what people assume, I am not keen on looking for a bride. I would much rather find someone entertaining to be a companion. Someone willing to listen to my troubles without fawning over my every word." He paused. "You are not from these parts, so you would not know. Three years ago, I had a fiancée…"

His voice trailed off, and he looked away from her. She waited patiently for him to continue, and after a moment he cleared his throat. "I am not yet ready to allow someone into my heart. I suppose this is unfortunate for many of the ladies at the ball tonight. But since you are not interested in becoming my wife, then perhaps you could consider…well, becoming a friend. A confidante of sorts. You are the only person I know who does not bow before me or giggle at everything I say."

He awaited her response, and she thought about how to answer. She was honestly stunned – this was rather different from the proposal she had been expecting. But becoming his friend sounded like a much better idea than becoming his wife. A friend had fewer obligations, and that would suit her better.

"You could even move to the palace if you'd like," he added, watching her for her reaction. "We have many guest rooms. Then you may see the gardens in the daytime whenever you wish. You would never want for anything."

Moving to the palace sounded even better. She would be able to leave the manor! But some doubts came to mind – if she was only a companion and they had no legal relationship, then would her stepsisters allow her to move out? Miku knew she only had one chance. She had to make sure that when she escaped, there was _no way_ they could bring her back. The royal family had a great deal of influence, but even they were not above the law – as a lady of the Hatsune family, she was obliged to do as the matriarch said. If her stepmother did not want her to leave, then she could not move out even if he offered her lodging.

She remembered studying bits and pieces of the law when she was younger, and though she had forgotten most of it, this rule was something that always stood out to her – noble ladies were tied to their families, and the only way they could break free of that was through marriage. Otherwise, they had to obey their parents.

"I doubt my aunt would allow such an arrangement, unfortunately," she finally answered. "I was only allowed to come here if I promised to live with my aunt, and so I must obey." She paused, noticing that he was hanging on to her every word. "It would be wonderful to move to the palace, it truly would, but I would like to avoid any trouble. My family is not above using the court to ensure I follow their instructions. It would be most troublesome for you."

She wished she could just say yes to his suggestion, but she had to make sure her plan was foolproof, and not getting married would leave too many loopholes. If Anastasia and Lucinda found a way to force her home, she knew she would never see the light of day again, and the very thought frightened her.

He frowned. "That is unfortunate. I was hoping to find someone to talk to besides the servants or the sycophants who come to the palace daily, seeking my father's favour. You almost seem genuine Cinderella, were it not for the fact that your name and person are built upon a fairy tale." He seemed amused, and she was starting to regret the name she chose – he appeared to derive a great deal of enjoyment from picking on her nickname. She was tempted to respond sarcastically, but she held her tongue – there were still two nights of this ball to go, two nights to leave an impression and change his mind.

"Then perhaps you will find someone else at this ball who can be your companion," she suggested. Not that she really wanted him to look – if he did find another girl then all her hopes of escape would be flushed down the drain.

He shook his head. "No, I know what most ladies are like. And if I listen to just one more conversation about the great lengths someone went to in their search for the perfect dress, I might murder someone." She laughed, genuinely entertained, and he smiled. "You know, all this makes me very curious about you, Cinderella. I am determined to remove that mask from your pretty face someday."

His comment reminded her of how she ought to be careful around him. "Well, I'd prefer to keep my mask on. It protects me from the attentions of men," she answered. With a curtsey, she bade him good night, satisfied with the progress she had made. They were on speaking terms at least, so maybe there was a chance she could change his mind about having a fiancée. Or so she hoped. Even if she failed, she could just accept his offer of companionship and hope that her stepsisters were not intelligent enough to prevent her from escaping.

"Hold on, you need not leave so hastily." His voice made her pause, and she looked around, wondering what else he wanted to say. He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, his lips brushing gently against her skin. Her skin tingled where his lips touched and instinctively she snatched her hand away. He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Why, do you not like my farewell?"

She couldn't tell if he was displeased or not, his tone sounding remarkably neutral. But she shook her head anyway, and he straightened, studying her. "Then why do you remove your hand so quickly, as though my touch repulses you?" he asked. This time she could hear a tinge of amusement in his words. She didn't know how to reply, so she stood there without saying a word until he finally sighed and shook his head. "I can't tell what you're thinking at all. Everything you do intrigues me." He paused. "There is just one thing I would like to know, Cinderella. Will you be attending the ball tomorrow?"

She nodded, and he exhaled, seemingly in relief. "Excellent. I will have a reason to appear in that case – well, a reason besides avoiding my father's lecturing. I look forward to seeing you then." He watched her. "If you would like to speak with me again tomorrow, wait for me at the potted plant near the orchestra. I will search for you and pray I may earn even just a glimpse of your loveliness."

Miku was certain that as the prince, he was obliged to shower her in flowery compliments, but it still felt good to be spoken to in this manner. She agreed to his plan, knowing she would have to find ways and means to change his mind about marriage tomorrow. With nothing left to say, she excused herself and headed back to the ballroom – now that her audience had concluded, it was about time for her to return to the manor. She had to clean and get supper ready.

Len watched her leave. He was painfully curious now – she had turned down his offer of companionship, something most other ladies would have jumped at. Anything for a chance to enter the palace and assume a position of importance. Yet she was reluctant, and he was beginning to see this whole situation – this girl – as a challenge to be conquered.

He knew this was an inappropriate thought to have; after all, he would not be able to marry her even after she fell for him. His guilt wouldn't allow for it. But he could not deny his desire to find out more about this girl who treated him not like royalty, but rather as an equal. She was casual enough without being disrespectful, and since she was not uptight like the other nobles, it was enjoyable to hold a conversation with her.

When he held her hand, he could feel the slight calluses on her palm, which made him wonder. Noble ladies did not have calluses since they simply hired people to do the household chores. He would have assumed she was a servant who snuck into the ball, but her dressing and her manners and her dancing were all too impeccable for her to be a mere civilian.

If her aunt was the only obstacle that prevented her from spending time with him, then he was sure he could negotiate something. He was royalty, after all. And it would be a shame to lock such a charming lady away.

It had been a while since he encountered someone he wanted to talk to. Day in, day out, he always did the same few things, but maybe her presence could incite some change in his life. It was too early to say now since they were barely even acquaintances, but he suspected that given time, Cinderella might grow to become a very dear friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Miku got supper ready and made sure that her stepsisters' rooms were completely clean. She was just leaving Anastasia's room when she heard the front door open, and she knew that the trio must have returned from the palace.

"Who _is_ that girl?" Lucinda could be heard jabbering away downstairs as Miku made her way to the parlour. "She was the only one he danced with all night, and when she disappeared he refused to dance with anyone else. Where did she go?"

The brat looked frustrated, yanking out the pins that held her elaborate hairstyle in place. Anastasia was simply ignoring her younger sister, while their mother nodded absentmindedly, not paying much attention to her daughter's complaints.

Miku cleared her throat. "I've left supper on the kitchen table. Bread with butter and some cheese. We're running out of food in the pantry," she added. She took care not to sound too hostile – she had to stay in their good books for the next couple of days. Anastasia acknowledged her with a nod, while Lucinda got distracted from her tirade by the mention of food. However, as the younger stepsister bounced past her towards the kitchen, she paused and stared at Miku, or specifically at her teal hair.

She wondered if Lucinda suspected her of something, but then the brat opened her mouth and Miku abruptly remembered that her stepsister was an idiot. "There was a lady at the ball. She has teal hair like you, you freak, but she's so much prettier than you could ever hope to be. Look at you, all covered in filth." Lucinda's gaze swept her up and down. Miku had specially taken ashes from the fireplace and smeared them all over her skin so that she would not look too clean – it pained her to do that, but she wanted to avoid rousing her stepsisters' suspicions.

She knew that her teal hair was prominent, so she had to take every possible step to protect herself. "Perhaps one day I might be beautiful too," she answered, keeping her voice neutral though it would be so nice to declare that _she_ was the beautiful girl, the one who managed to capture Romeo's attention at the ball. Lucinda just rolled her eyes and continued on her way to the kitchen. Anastasia followed her, while their mother proceeded back to her room as usual. She rarely ate with them.

The older woman gave Miku a lingering look as she walked past, and Miku avoided her gaze, looking at the floor. She couldn't help but feel relieved when the woman was gone – among the three of them her stepmother always seemed to be the most intelligent, just that she usually stayed out of the household affairs. No doubt her stepmother had noticed her at the ball, but did she suspect her true identity?

"I will be checking my dresser later for any sign of dust. I hope you recall what I said before we left." Anastasia gave her a haughty look. "I was wondering if I should just lock the front door so that you cannot leave while we are gone. That way you would focus on cleaning instead of always lurking in the garden. Luckily for you, Mother convinced me not to. She seems fond of you, though I cannot imagine why."

Miku seethed. Was it not cruel enough to confine her to the manor grounds? If she was locked in the house, forced to see nothing but these four walls every day, she might go mad. But she reminded herself to keep a placid smile on her face – she could not afford another week-long stay in the cellar, so she had to be careful.

"In that case, I am so thankful to both of you for your benevolence," she simpered, her hand fluttering up to rest on her chest. Anastasia inclined her head, a smug little smile on her face, and Miku wondered if she was unable to sense the sarcasm that hid behind her words. Once her plan succeeded she could get out of here and she would no longer have to show them any respect – she could mock and insult them all she wanted, and they would have no way to retaliate.

"I am glad you're aware. Now get out of my sight, you annoy me. You remind me of that girl with the teal hair. Lucinda was harping on about her all night. If it weren't for the fact that you were preparing supper, I might have thought you were her."

Miku hid a smile, nodding and leaving the parlour. It appeared that her ploy had worked. Thankfully her stepfamily only hired daytime servants, and everyone else returned home after their duties were done. That left her free to do as she wished during the evenings. She wouldn't have been able to pull off this plan, otherwise.

She probably had to find a way to make her hair less distinctive, however. It stood out too much. She frowned, thinking about it – but then Romeo also identified her through her teal hair. Her only concern was that her stepsisters might guess the newcomer was her, and lock her in the manor to test their suspicions. She should get an alibi…well, she was friends with one of the servants, they could arrange something.

* * *

The second day passed quickly, and before long Anastasia and Lucinda were once again getting ready for the ball. This time, Lucinda looked slightly better – she was wearing a voluminous dress in a sunny shade of buttercup yellow that didn't clash _too_ badly with her hair. However, the hairstyle she demanded made her look like a shepherdess, and not in a charming sense either.

She did what her stepsister wanted, too caught up in her plans to protest against Lucinda's massacre of fashion. Was her alibi concrete? She had spoken to her friend – for both nights, if Anastasia or Lucinda questioned the servants about her evening activities, her friend would claim to have returned to the manor at night to pick up something she accidentally left behind, and Miku passed it to her. That should be sufficient proof that Miku was at home and not gallivanting around the palace.

She had promised her friend extra food for lying on her behalf. She gave up her lunch today and would do so tomorrow as well, but she didn't mind going hungry if it brought her some peace of mind. She was aware this was not a perfect alibi, but at this short notice, it was the best she could come up with. Anyway, it was better to have something than nothing at all. Anastasia and Lucinda were not the sharpest knives in the drawer, but they were not entirely stupid either.

Sighing, she tied the final braid and patted down the loose strands of hair, standing back so that Lucinda could admire herself. "Oh, I look wonderful!" she gushed. Miku begged to differ. "The prince will no doubt notice me. I hope that girl does not show up again." Lucinda scowled. "She was so selfish, keeping him to herself the whole night…I don't know why people say she's pretty. It's not like anyone can see her face. I bet if you take a close look at her, she's nothing special."

Miku found her complaints to be rather amusing, but she didn't let it show on her face. "Lucinda, you have ten minutes!" Anastasia's voice floated through the door. "Don't be a brat and delay our departure _again_. You're fifteen, behave like your age." Miku could already imagine the disdainful look on Anastasia's face.

Lucinda rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond. "Cinderella, make sure Lucinda comes out of her room soon or _you're_ the one I'll be punishing instead, do you hear me?" Before Miku could answer, she heard footsteps and realised Anastasia was walking away. She gritted her teeth – it was unfair to punish her for Lucinda's mistakes, but then again her stepfamily had never been fair.

"She thinks that just because she's older, she can boss me around!" Lucinda fumed, oblivious to Miku's anger. "She's just jealous that I'm prettier and smarter while she is boring and dreary. It's _true_ that she only ever does knitting and needlework. No wonder she cannot find a husband!" she continued, folding her arms across her chest. Listening to Lucinda rant about Anastasia lifted Miku's mood a little. She might not like the younger stepsister, but for now, they had a common enemy.

"Now, help me decide which pair of shoes I should wear before I go down to meet Mother and the hag," Lucinda demanded, and Miku began sorting out her shoes, not paying her task too much attention – the brat wouldn't listen to her suggestions anyway. And she wanted the women out of the manor as soon as possible.

Eight pairs of shoes later, Lucinda was ready, and she walked down the stairs to the parlour. Miku followed some distance behind and heard Anastasia comment that they _just_ made it under the ten-minute mark. Then the three of them went out of the front door and she took a deep breath, finally liberated. Quickly, she headed to the bathing chamber to scrub herself, looking forward to the feeling of being clean.

She ran through the bath faster than she did yesterday, eager to make her way to the palace. Drying herself off, she put on the dress she had ready for tonight – it was a deep, velvety black, trimmed with delicate lace. The low-cut bodice was a tad daring for her, but she liked it since it accentuated her figure and made her look more mature than she was. Coupled with her minimalistic black mask, she cut quite a striking figure, and she knew she would attract plenty of attention.

She liked this dress because it was the one her mother was wearing when she first met her father. It was a love story Miku had grown up with – seeing this dress again made her think of all kinds of romantic ideals. Falling in love, adoration, sweet dreams and eternity. She stopped daydreaming so much about these things once her mother died, but she was still very fond of the dress.

She fingered the deep red flower attached to her mask and thought it might remind Romeo of their meeting last night. This time, she braided her hair, allowing the long plait to fall over her shoulder. The teal of her hair was a stark contrast against her fair skin, which was left bare since her gown tonight was worn off-shoulder. The colours were rich and eye-catching – teal, white, scarlet, black. A lacy black fan might finish the look, but she didn't have one, so she'd just have to attend the ball as she was.

Recalling the offer of the nice young nobleman last night, she headed towards his manor. His carriage was waiting outside his house, and as she approached, she saw him and his mother walking out of the gates towards the waiting horses. She hurried and reached them just as they got to the carriage, greeting the pair with a smile. They returned her pleasantries with delighted exuberance, and he complimented her on her beauty. She tittered, accepting his praise with thanks.

Tonight's trip was filled with more chatter than the previous night, with both mother and son asking her about her past. She gave them the same story she provided Romeo last night, about her being a foreigner who came to stay with an aunt. When asked who her aunt was, she smiled demurely and held her tongue. They respected her desire for privacy and stopped questioning her, though she could feel the gaze of the older woman upon her throughout the entire trip.

Perhaps she wondered about her identity, and whether her presence would end up hurting or benefiting her son. Not that it mattered, since Miku was not interested in romance at present. Even marrying Romeo was nothing but a means to freedom.

The young noble helped her down from the carriage once again. His mother, when he was not looking, whispered to Miku about how her son had been terribly smitten since they first met. She laughed politely, unsure of how to react – it was the first time she had entertained any kind of confession – and ended up saying that he was a nice man. She only meant it as a neutral remark however and hoped that his mother would not take it as a sign that her son's feelings were requited.

There were fewer servants at the palace doors tonight. Again, Miku spotted the green-haired servant who gave her directions to the ballroom yesterday. She was also the same servant who had seen Romeo leading her to the rose gardens. The servant seemed to recognise her, glancing at her with a look of curiosity on her face. Miku smiled at her, and she smiled back, giving her a slight bow.

It was nice to be remembered. She had been shut away from other people for so long that she had all but forgotten what it was like to have relationships with others outside of the manor. Standing in the middle of so many people, she felt like a ghost, floating among the living, present but at the same time invisible.

This time, she had to put up with a great deal more staring and muttering than she did last night. Previously, almost no one had noticed her on the way to the ballroom but today, every few steps she took someone would greet her and request for her name, or ask who she was, or ask whether she fancied the prince – the last question usually came from the ladies. She answered every question as politely as she could, though the number of times she got stopped was beginning to get on her nerves.

Whenever people asked for her name she always managed to avoid the question, generally by asking _them_ in return who they were and why they were attending the ball. It had worked thus far, but she would have to make up an actual name to use soon. She'd rather not introduce herself as Cinderella again, it was too risky.

Eventually, she made her way to the ballroom, determined to find a corner to hide in so that she could avoid being mobbed by curious nobles. The men wanted to speak and dance with her, while the ladies muttered among themselves, sometimes casting her dark looks. She ignored the women – unlike them, she did not want to get close to Romeo for his riches or his influence. She wasn't even interested in his looks, though he was admittedly attractive. She felt like _her_ need for him was, in a way, the most moral. He could help her. And she could help him too.

She could become his friend, his confidante. She understood the pain of loneliness and isolation because she too was lonely. But it was strange to know that even a prince would feel…alone. Did he not have companions he could speak freely with?

She found the potted plant he asked her to wait at yesterday and discovered it was also a decent hiding spot. She could keep out of the public eye until Romeo arrived. She was not as keen on dancing as she was last night – yes, the music was still wonderful, but dancing would draw more attention to her and she was trying to avoid being noticed. She especially didn't want her stepsisters to see her again. It was too dangerous to be discovered by them. After all, how many people in the country had teal hair? They might put two and two together.

"Not going to dance today?" She whipped around, startled – Romeo stood right behind her with a small smirk on his face. She exhaled, thankful it was him and not some other young man desperate to make her acquaintance. She shook her head, eyeing the dance floor uneasily. There were many couples dancing tonight, but she was sure that even among the crowd her teal hair would stand out.

At least in this corner, she blended in with the plant. "You look lovely tonight," he said, and she muttered her thanks. He was dressed in an outfit similar to hers – pure black from head-to-toe, save for the bright red rose attached to his lapel. Even their masks resembled, though the little bloom on his mask was black like the rest of his dressing. "It is interesting that you chose to wear such a dreary colour for tonight. I wore black to mourn the peaceful life I had before this ball. I will not ask you for your reasons, but I'm glad to see I'm not the only one dressed like they are ready to attend a funeral."

"Black is not only the colour of mourning," she replied. "Black is powerful, graceful and elegant. It is the colour of new beginnings. Many things can be done with black. Also, it was my mother's favourite colour."

"Was?" he echoed. "Has your mother found a new favourite colour, then?"

She only realised her slip-up when he pointed out her use of past tense. She thought about how to reply. Should she reveal the truth about her mother? In the end, she decided it would probably be better to lie. She couldn't let down her guard until she was able to read him like an open book. "No, she is simply fickle-minded, and she likes to follow trends. But no matter what she always returns to black."

"Women and their fashion trends. They will always be beyond me – what's wrong with simply wearing blacks and whites? One cannot go wrong with monochrome colours." He shook his head. "Nowadays the girls I see are drowning in taffeta and silk, and they look like they can hardly walk in those monstrosities they call dresses. I much prefer your style. It is simple, but elegant." She bowed her head, unsure of how to respond. It was different when _he_ complimented her – perhaps because she wanted to impress him?

He smiled as she fidgeted, but his blue eyes were unreadable. "Would you like to explore the palace? I don't know how _you_ feel about it, but looking at all these people dancing and hearing their chatter…it gets on my nerves."

"That certainly sounds fun, but as the prince, don't you have to entertain your guests?" She frowned. "Are you allowed to leave whenever you fancy?" And he gave her a look that somehow made her feel like she had said something stupid.

"I'm the prince, I can do whatever I want." Well, it was difficult to refute that. "And anyway, other than to commemorate my twenty-first birthday, the main purpose of these celebrations is for me to find a wife. At least that's what my father wishes." He glanced at the dancing couples. "I don't want that, so we compromised. Instead of a bride, I can search for a companion. Now that I've found a person I genuinely like to spend time with," he looked back at her, "then why should I stay here and waste my time?"

"I understand. It's just…it seems a bit inappropriate, sneaking away like that," she hedged, testing his determination. She wanted to see how insistent he was about getting his way. "My aunt scolded me for quite a while after I went to the rose gardens with you. She said I was supposed to be meeting other noblemen at the ball, not wandering around the palace and making a fool of myself. Of course, I did not tell her you were with me, lest she got any strange ideas…but she claimed she could not find me all night, and she was very disappointed." She sighed. "I'd hate to disappoint her again. She wants me to find a nice gentleman to marry."

He laughed, though he sounded more disbelieving than amused. "And she thinks you will find a suitable man by lingering around the ballroom? Your aunt is strange to believe that. I doubt you would have any problems finding a suitor, Cinderella." He paused, studying her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious as his gaze swept her up and down. "You're a lovely lady, sharp and full of wit. I hear there are many men keen on making your acquaintance, so there is no need to stay. I invite you to join me in getting away for a while."

Did he know she was bored? That she had little to do here other than getting his attention? She was not here to enjoy herself, after all – she did not attend the ball to eat and drink and make merry. "Where do you wish to go?" she asked.

He seemed delighted by her response, clearly having taken it as an agreement to go with him. "I can show you the various important rooms in the palace. The throne room, the dining room, the gallery, even _my_ room if you so wish," he added, his voice turning sly. She tried to ignore that last option. "Just let me know what you want, I don't have much opinion. Anything would be better than staying here with a smile plastered on my face. It's exhausting."

They had been standing together for a while now, and she knew some people were beginning to notice them. She saw the pointed looks of curiosity and recognition – people would surely approach them before long. She had to make a decision now, whether to dive back into the thick of the ball and hope no one would see her; or to follow him and use this opportunity to get closer. It was not a difficult choice to make.

"But my aunt…" Her voice quivered. She had made her decision, but she wanted to keep up the good girl impression just to see what he would do. He sighed and, without asking for any sort of permission, he grabbed her hand and started pulling her, not very subtly, towards the ballroom entrance. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the nobles once again realised she was with Romeo. She had wanted to avoid being noticed – no doubt Lucinda would return home again ranting about the mysterious stranger. "Let go of me!" she hissed, trying to break free of his grip.

He was stronger than her, and she didn't budge so much as an inch. With her still trying to pull away from him, he dragged her into the hallway and went down the corridor until she could no longer hear the orchestra playing. It was only then, when everything was quiet, that he finally let go of her wrist, a triumphant grin on his face.

She rubbed her wrist with her fingers – his grip had been tight, and she could feel her skin prickling as her blood flow resumed. "Are you pleased now? My aunt will no doubt scold me again for sneaking out of the ball," she grumbled, injecting the perfect amount of displeasure into her voice.

"Look, if your aunt has any problems with this, she can speak to me," he answered. "Just let me know who she is and I will personally negotiate with her so that you are allowed to move to the palace. I can be a very good diplomat, you'd be surprised."

She noted he was the type that seemed _very_ determined to get his way. At this point, she couldn't tell whether that was a good or a bad thing. "Will you follow me around the palace now?" he asked after a few moments passed and she still had yet to answer.

"I don't suppose I have a better choice, do I?" she said, looking around. This part of the palace was unfamiliar to her. He had taken them down several hallways, and she couldn't recall how to get back to the ballroom.

"I dare say you're right." He grinned again, looking far happier than he did at the ball. "I wanted to show you around the palace because you would need to remember its layout if you are to be my companion. Can't have you getting lost every other day, especially since I won't always be around to guide you."

He spoke as though everything was already settled and she would be moving to the palace tomorrow. "I'll talk to my father tonight about this, and we'll come up with a solution to your aunt problem. Don't worry about it – just be ready to pack up and go within a moment's notice when the time comes."

"You do know I never actually agreed to move here – I said I would like to, but it doesn't mean I _agreed_ ," she said. He raised an eyebrow at that, and she tried her best not to sound too defensive. "I appreciate the offer, I truly do, but since I am new here…I would prefer to see the sights first, settle down and perhaps find a fiancé before I think about things like moving to the palace."

She hoped to provoke some kind of reaction from him, perhaps in the form of a marriage proposal. Instead, he shook his head and sighed. "Why are you so eager to tie yourself down? You are still young, as am I, and you don't see _me_ looking for a fiancée. Enjoy life and singlehood while you can," he advised. "But enough with the dreary talk. I left the ball to avoid talking about serious matters, so just keep me company until it is time for us to return. You can do that, can't you?"

The tone of his voice left little room for negotiation, so she nodded, glad to be away from all those people as well. Then they wouldn't keep trying to ask her personal questions. "Thank you. Now, please come with me." He turned, and she followed him down the passage. "I can show you things, you know." He glanced at her, and there was a sly smile on his face. "Things in the palace that would take your breath away. I certainly hope that will help to change your mind."


	5. Chapter 5

She could hear her dress swishing against the carpet, and she kept looking around, hoping that no one would see the two of them together.

"You're making _me_ nervous," Romeo muttered, and she glared at his back – he was walking slightly ahead of her, completely carefree. Well, he lived here. She felt oddly guilty about sneaking around the palace, a building that most nobles were generally not even allowed to enter. Was skipping the ball really okay?

"Why don't you cut your hair?" she asked, blurting out the first question that came to mind in a bid to ease the tension. He paused, and she almost walked right into him – she barely managed to stop herself in time. He turned to stare at her, and the look on his face seemed to fall somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

"I don't want to. Do I need a reason?" he answered. "I think it looks nice. Or should I cut my hair short to match every other male in the ballroom, Cinderella?"

"No, I was just thinking that if you let your hair down, you might be able to pass as a girl." The words spilt out without her thinking and she clapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed by her thoughtlessness. Had she offended him?

He cocked his head. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment, but thank you, I suppose." He smiled. "I've heard people calling me handsome, but it is the first time anyone has implied that I look…feminine. Believe me, I did not grow my hair out intending to someday disguise myself as a lady."

He continued on his way, and she followed, praying that her slip-up had not affected her chances of stealing his heart. Romeo led her to a large window in the middle of the passageway – it was twice her height and four times her size, and she could see the palace grounds from here. The moonlight bathed her in silver. "Look." He pointed into the darkness. "From here you can see the townhouses. Normally you'd be able to see the lights, but they're out tonight since most of the nobles are at the ball. I like to stand here and look at the night sky when I need some time alone."

She could barely make out the silhouettes of the townhouses and wondered how it would look like in the daytime. The night sky above was vast, glittering stars sprinkled over its dark expanse, and admittedly it was lovely. "It's very pretty," she agreed. "Though the experience might be more pleasant if there was a balcony."

There was so much space. The palace grounds stretched a great distance beneath them, and she found it difficult to wrap her mind around that. For six years of her life, she had only ever seen the manor and the garden – here, the palace was so _big_ and she knew there was an entire city beyond the townhouses, people and places she had never seen before. It would be nice to visit those places, and she decided that once she escaped the manor, she would travel to the city to take in its sights.

"Oh? There actually _is_ a balcony." He smiled. "That's a good idea, especially with the pleasant breeze we have tonight. Follow me." He moved away, but she did not, still standing at the window and daydreaming about the things she'd see and the places she'd visit. He had to come back and pull her hand to make her leave her position. "You can look out of this window next time, once you move here."

The palace was huge. If she moved here, she had no doubt she would keep getting lost in her first week – there were ornate staircases all over the place, leading up to God knew where, and doors that opened up into unknown rooms. Romeo bypassed many of these doors as he led her around, and she wondered what sort of things were kept in the palace, but she did not ask as it was not any of her business. The carpet beneath their feet was thick, and it muffled their footsteps.

They began to climb one of the staircases, and she let her hand glide against the marble bannister. It was smooth and clean, delicate gold leaves twining around the railing, and it was beautiful and luxurious in an understated way. She was glad the décor wasn't ostentatious. "Where are we going now?" she asked.

"To the balcony, of course. You weren't listening to me, were you?" he replied, but he sounded amused rather than annoyed. She hummed quietly in assent, thinking about her surroundings – she hadn't expected much from this tour, to tell the truth. She thought the palace would just be a fancier version of their manor, since to her royalty were just richer and more powerful aristocrats. But she had to admit that so far, the palace looked quite nice. Perhaps it'd have other surprises in store.

She blinked as suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her. She looked up and saw that he had reached out to her, a smile on his face. "Take my hand," he invited, "and I'll show you a world of promise. Do you believe me?" She hesitated, meeting his gaze – was it appropriate for them to touch so casually? If he had not told her that he wasn't ready for a fiancée, she would have assumed he was interested in her. He was so flippant about holding hands. Was he genuinely not attracted to her?

Slowly, she placed her hand in his. His skin was soft and smooth, the elegant hand of an aristocrat. He had long, nimble fingers that reminded her of a pianist. She used to play the piano too, but it had been a while and she was unsure if she could still remember how. His fingers curled over hers – her hand was noticeably smaller than his – and once again, he brought her hand up to his lips. She did not flinch away, and he glanced up at her. "Not repulsed this time, I see."

"I could never find you repulsive, Your Highness," she answered. His lips curved into a smirk and his grip on her hand tightened, him leading the way forward as they continued up the stairs. She lifted her skirt with her free hand, trying to ensure she wouldn't trip and fall while going up.

"You have rather special shoes. They look like…glass?" he remarked, glancing at her raised skirt. "It's the first time I've ever seen a pair of shoes like that."

This staircase seemed to be never-ending. How long had they been climbing? They were still not on the next floor yet. "My mother gave them to me," she replied, and the conversation ended at that as she focused all her attention on not stepping on her dress. She let out a sigh of relief as they finally reached the next floor.

"I think I'll show you the throne room instead," Romeo said, a thoughtful look on his face. "We'll save the balcony for another time. Can't give you everything you want just because you want it." She didn't have much opinion on this so she said nothing. "Most people only get to see the throne room when they seek an audience with my father. It's a pretty nice room. Has a better view than that window."

She perked up at the mention of a nice view. He saw her reaction and he laughed, still holding on to her hand, and she wondered if she ought to tug her hand away – he was behaving so _casually_ for a prince. It might cause misunderstandings if anyone were to see them like this. She _did_ want him to propose, but she knew right now he had no such intentions and she'd rather not put up with baseless gossip.

"How big is the palace? I feel like we've been wandering for ages," she said.

"Ah, it's huge. Can't you tell from the outside?" He glanced at her. "It took me a year to remember where every single room was, so it can be overwhelming." He smiled. "But you don't need to worry about that. I won't let you get lost."

"You know I still have yet to promise you anything, right?" she asked. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't just _leave_ my aunt. She's the only family I have here." She was proud that she could sound so apologetic. It was pretty good acting if she said so herself. He paused, then suddenly he released her hand, shaking his head.

"I hoped to be able to change your mind. What could a lady possibly desire, if not luxury or romance?" he asked. "But I would like to continue trying. At least let me show you the throne room before you make a decision. After that, I will bring you back to the ballroom if you so wish." The distaste in his voice was evident, and she hid a smile – it was amusing to see a prince who did not behave like one.

Though she didn't mind the way he behaved. She wasn't the most well-versed with social etiquette, herself. "Very well." He swept his hand out with a teasing smile on his face, indicating that she should lead the way. There was a set of wooden doors at the end of the passage, guarded by two men – she guessed that was probably the throne room.

The men bowed as they approached. "Your Highness," one of them greeted Romeo, though both men glanced at her. He acknowledged them with a nod, and they rose from their bow.

"This is a guest of mine. I'm bringing her on a tour around the palace. Pretend you didn't see anything, would you?" he said. The guards both agreed and stepped aside so they could enter the throne room. She could feel their curious gazes upon her as she walked past them, and her skin crawled. She didn't like being stared at.

The doors swung shut behind them, leaving her alone in the throne room with him. But she ignored the implications of that, staring in wide-eyed wonder at how beautiful the room was. The carpet of the throne room was a rich red velvet, so soft and thick that she could feel her feet sinking a tiny bit with every step she took. For some reason, there was a little patch near the window that had been cordoned off with rope, but she was more interested in the view she could see from the glass.

The window was the wall, or the wall was the window. No matter what it was, the huge expanse of glass covered one entire side of the room, and through this, she could see even further than before – though in the night-time everything was a dark, blurred mass, she guessed that during the day it would be possible to see the city from here. She observed little wisps of smoke curling into the air, just barely visible beyond the tallest townhouses.

"How's the view?" Romeo stood beside her, gazing at the night sky. "If you ask me, this is the best part of the palace. If I couldn't come to this corner to just stand and think, I might have gone mad in my first year here." She thought he sounded wistful. "You know, if you move here, all this will be for your pleasure. The views, the rose gardens, the entire palace for you to explore. You'll never want for anything else in your life – I will make sure of that." His fingers touched her face and she gasped as he turned her head around, making her look at him. "Won't you stay with me?"

Her eyes were wide. She didn't know what to think, not with him being so close – there was a strange intimacy between them that had not existed before. "I…" she started, her gaze flitting from side to side, but before she could continue the doors swung open once more, and another person she didn't recognise strode into the throne room, stopping a little distance away from the entrance and staring at them.

Romeo let go of her with a muttered curse. "What do you want?" he groused, and the newcomer grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. Miku wondered who he was – clearly it was someone he was on good terms with if they could speak so casually. The man had long, purple hair tied up in a ponytail. He was tall, and there was an elegant, almost regal air about him despite his simple attire.

"My son," the man said, startling Miku – was this the _king_? – "I've been searching for you ever since you disappeared from the ball, and this is where I find you? Sneaking away with a charming young lady?" His smile softened as he turned towards her, and she hastily curtseyed, keeping her head down. "You may rise," he said, and she thanked him, making sure to keep her gaze lowered.

"Father." Romeo's reply was curt. "I was just showing my _friend_ around since she has never seen the palace before. She's the foreigner I mentioned last night, so now you know she's not just a figment of my imagination. I have no intention of going back there to face those simpletons if that's what you are here for," he added.

"Is it wrong to wonder where my son went?" the king asked, sounding reproachful. "What is your name?" he addressed her instead, and she flinched, startled by the sudden attention. "My son says you call yourself Cinderella. Is that your real name?" There was curiosity on his face, and she swallowed – lying to the prince was one thing, but the king? That might be considered treason.

But she had already come so far. She couldn't just let everything crumble, not after reaching this point. "My aunt calls me Cinderella," she answered, evading the question. To her surprise, he seemed to accept her response, not pressing any further. Romeo opened his mouth, but his father shot him a look and he pressed his lips together, frowning. Miku was just relieved she wasn't being further questioned.

"Go back to the ball, Cinderella," the king told her with a gentle smile. "Romeo was being selfish, taking you away from the celebrations like that. In the future, if he does anything to make you uncomfortable, I give you full permission to outright say no. He hardly behaves like royalty anyway, so you need not show him any respect." Her lips twitched, and Romeo coughed, glaring at his father. "Do you know the way back? I can get one of the guards to show you how to get to the ballroom…"

"I can find my way, there's no need for any trouble, Your Majesty," she replied. "Thank you for your graciousness." And Len thought that she was never _that_ polite when speaking to him. "I apologise for trespassing," she added, giving him a pointed look. Even with her mask on, he could sense her glare.

"Are you coming again tomorrow night?" he asked before she could turn and run back to the ball. She looked between him and his father, who was watching them with keen interest, and she nodded. Then she quickly left the throne room, making sure to maintain a respectable distance between herself and the king as she walked past him. With a sigh, Len turned to face the man who had adopted him.

"Are you going to tell me off again for not taking this seriously?" he asked. He was more or less resigned to being nagged at about the fiancée issue, but instead, Gakupo looked thoughtful – it was not the expression he had expected to see. Gakupo walked to the window, standing beside Len, and he glanced at his father, his annoyance melting away into curiosity. What was on his mind?

"Who is she, really?" Gakupo mused, finally breaking the silence. "Her name is not Cinderella." Yes, Len had guessed as much. "There must be a reason she is here. I would normally fear the worst. But then…" He frowned, and Len tensed.

"You think she is a spy?" he asked. But the moment he said those words he already knew them to be untrue. "I don't think she is. I'm not sure why I am so certain, but I know," he added when Gakupo gave him a questioning look. "She lacks the drive and ruthlessness of an assassin. She could have killed me yesterday when I brought her to the rose gardens – it was dark and secluded, and there was no one besides the two of us. It was the perfect opportunity, so if she _was_ an assassin, why didn't she kill me then?"

Gakupo shook his head. "I know she is no assassin either. I am not suspecting her of that. But there is something… _terribly_ familiar about her. I do not hold any hopes since I've long thought them dead, but her teal hair, her voice…no, there is far too much resemblance for it to be mere coincidence." Len just blinked at him, his words registering but not making any sense.

"Are you saying that you know this girl?" he asked. "But how? She's a foreigner, or so she claims. And her only interest is to settle into society and find a nobleman to marry. How could you recognise a stranger who only came to our country not long ago?" Her features were distinctive, so it was unlikely Gakupo had mixed her up with someone else. He did not know of any other aristocrat who looked like her.

"If I'm correct…if she's the person I think she is…then she's lying about where she came from. Though it has been many years since I last saw her family, she was born and raised here. Her father never brought her with him to visit other countries, he was far too protective of his only child." Gakupo paused here, and Len waited for him to continue, his heart thudding. Whatever this was, it sounded like it might be interesting. "You know I am the only male left in my family – the only person who can carry on the Kamui bloodline. But one of my aunts married into the Hatsune family. Our families are intertwined, and we share a close relationship."

Len knew of the Hatsune family. They were one of the four noble families who had founded this country and established its monarchy. But they had fallen out of favour ever since the death of Hatsune Mikuo, the head of the family, six years ago.

"And how is the Hatsune family related to this? You suspect that girl is a long-lost relative?" he asked. From what he heard, the Hatsune family was only survived by the head's second wife and her two daughters. His first wife had passed from illness years ago, and his daughter perished in the same accident that took Hatsune Mikuo's life. People said the accident was caused by arson, though that was never confirmed.

"Did you know? That Hatsune Mikuo and his daughter both had teal hair?" Gakupo said. Len's eyes widened. "Mikuo was a cousin and a good friend of mine. I have never met anyone with such a keen mind for business. He was a staunch supporter of my ambitions to seize the throne. The last time I visited them was when she was eleven years old, a decade ago…if she were still alive, she'd be your age now."

Did Cinderella ever mention how old she was? "His widow clarified that father and daughter perished in the same accident," he continued, confirming what Len already knew. "It's a pity, we always thought she'd grow up to be a fine lady. Ten years have passed, but I still remember she had the sweetest voice. And her hair, the same vibrant shade of teal as her father." He shook his head. "It might be sheer coincidence, but part of me cannot help but hope that Cinderella is Hatsune Miku."

"If she is that dead girl…" Len paused. "But then why is she insistent on using a moniker? She is the only blood daughter of the Hatsune family. The nobles would be more than happy to have someone to recognise. The Dowager Duchess' two daughters are not related by blood to the Hatsune family, and they will lose all claim to the family's fortune if Cinderella – should she really be Miku – is willing to prove her true identity. There is no need for her to pretend to be someone else."

"What if she is facing trouble? Or what if she is in danger?" Gakupo murmured, and Len hesitated, not having considered those possibilities. "Maybe she is trapped in a delicate situation and has no choice but to lie. Either way, we have no way of confirming her identity, so right now there is no point in speculating."

"Yet you care enough that you would like to find out the truth," he countered. Gakupo sighed. "Do you think she still recognises you? Could that, for some reason, contribute to her need to conceal her identity?"

Gakupo shook his head. "Unlikely. Though I did visit her father, she usually was not in the room. I've seen her a few times, but she had always been a capricious child – lovely and inquisitive, but a real handful. It was enough to leave an impression on me, but probably not on her." He laughed. "Besides, it has been so many years. She has probably forgotten about her uncle. Even more so now that I am the king – back when I visited her family, times were hard, and I always dressed poorly."

Len snorted. "I cannot imagine anyone from the Four Great Houses ever dressing poorly." Gakupo's smile was modest but he did not correct Len. "Why are you so interested in her, anyway? So what if she is Hatsune Miku? Does it matter?"

"Hatsune Mikuo was a good friend of mine. And even without that, he was a good man. It was through his leadership that the Hatsune family reached the heights they did, and it all crashed when he died. He saved my floundering business when I needed help the most, even when other backers disappeared with their funds. Finding out what happened to his daughter is the very least I can do for him." Gakupo's blue eyes were earnest, and Len found it difficult to meet his gaze.

He wondered what it was like to have so much loyalty to a dead friend. It must be nice to be so close to someone. Listening to Gakupo's story caused a little pang in his chest – was it envy? The only person he cared for that deeply was dead, and he wasn't sure if he could cultivate such feelings for anyone ever again, not even if he tried his best. But he _wanted_ to feel. He was tired of being so numb all the time.

"I'll help you," he found himself saying. Maybe this was his attempt at searching for some kind of meaning to his existence. He lived for his father, after all – without his intervention, Len would not be here today. He had not asked to be rescued, but he recognised that he owed a debt. "I'm already speaking to the girl. You know my situation. If she accepts my offer, she will move in and we will have opportunities to find out more about her. It will be easier than you acting on your own."

Gakupo blinked, looking surprised. "Are you sure? I do not wish to burden you with my problems – I know you are busy enough carrying out your duties for this country." He placed a hand on Len's shoulder, and the warm weight of it was oddly comforting. Len swallowed. Was this what having a father felt like?

"Yes. You are the king. You have no time for anything personal. Even if I'm busy, I am at least less occupied than you are." There was still hesitation on his face, and Len pushed a little harder. "She is the only girl at this ridiculous affair who managed to catch my eye, anyway. No matter what, I would have wanted to find out more about her. Spending time with her will be no burden," he promised.

"Fine, then. I believe you will do a good job." Gakupo grinned. "I have never seen Kagamine Len set out to do anything without exceeding all expectations. Likewise, left in your capable hands, this mystery will surely require little time to unravel."

Len laughed. "You place too much faith in me, Your Majesty." Then he paused. "I've been wondering if I should discard my family name. I…should not be using that name any longer," he mumbled. He despised the man who named him, and he didn't want any reminder of his past, but he was uncertain because a name was _still_ a name and it was strange to think about changing it. He had so many memories tied to that name.

"You know you may adopt my family name whenever you wish. It is entirely up to you." He turned away from the window. "And you know that no matter what happens, you will be the heir to the throne. You are my son. That will not change."

"And for that, I am grateful." He bowed his head and Gakupo chuckled. "You would think of me as the perfect son were it not for my reluctance to pick a wife." Len said this as a statement, not a question.

"Why do you bring up things we are both aware of?" he countered. "I was excited when I heard you were enjoying the rose gardens with a maiden last night, and it turned out you were only interested in her friendship…"

"What, must all men only seek one thing from their interactions with the ladies?" Len raised an eyebrow. "I expected better from you."

"You know what I mean, Len." Gakupo shook his head. "There's simply no way to argue with that sharp tongue of yours."

He smiled. "Well, if you want me to…I can consider proposing to her if necessary," he finally acquiesced. "Only so that I may investigate her identity. It kills two birds with one stone, yes? We settle this matter, then a few years down the road, you will have your heir to the throne, and I will be married to someone I can at least tolerate."

Gakupo beamed. "That is wonderful news to hear. Thank you." Len almost had to look away from the blinding gratitude on his face. "I hope the truth can be uncovered quickly. I've always wondered if there was something I could have done to avert the tragedy…" His blue eyes shone with some emotion Len could not identify, and it was gone before he could think too much about it. "Here might be a chance to repay my debt. If she _is_ Hatsune Miku, I will do whatever is in my power to help her rebuild her family's reputation and fortune. It is the least that she deserves."

"You need not worry." Len decided it was about time to leave the throne room – he had other matters to attend to. "That girl should not be difficult for me to charm. It will only be a matter of time." He stopped right before the door. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I should return to the ball. You might wish to partake of the festivities as well." A knowing smirk crossed his face, then he was gone.

Gakupo wondered what Len had up his sleeve. He knew his son, and it was likely he already had come up with a plan of sorts. But he also knew how voracious and stubborn the Hatsune child was – Mikuo had indulged his daughter to no end, and she was remarkably headstrong. If this mysterious girl somehow miraculously turned out to be Hatsune Miku, then Len could very well have met his match.


	6. Chapter 6

The night was still early. She didn't have to go back yet – there weren't many options in the pantry, so she could prepare something quick for supper.

She stood next to a marble pillar, watching the couples on the dance floor. A server passed by her, offering her a drink, and she declined. She had never drunk before, and she didn't want to try. Lucinda always acted ridiculously when she was drunk, and she would rather not risk the same thing happening to her at the ball.

Her body swayed gently as the orchestra played. The tune was light and lively – perfect for laughing and twirling. She could imagine herself exchanging partners and spinning around and around, smiling all the while, until she spun back into the arms of her first partner. But who would that first partner be?

She thought of Romeo with his cerulean eyes and wicked smile – a borderline _smirk_ – and wondered. He was a good dancer, she had to admit that. He led the dance perfectly last night and seemed very much at ease with the steps of each piece. He was one of the best dance partners she ever had…not that there were many for her to compare him against. Her father was a wonderful dancer as well, and when he was in a playful mood he used to pick her up and twirl her around, her mother laughing and clapping as they romped around the drawing-room.

Her eyes stung a little and she blinked, wiping the moisture that had leaked from underneath her eyelids away from her face. The past would bring her nothing but sadness and longing; she had to move forward and think about her plans.

"Good evening." She jumped, startled by the unexpected voice – she turned to face the speaker and her eyes widened as she saw her stepmother, dressed in black like her, a netted veil covering half her face. Miku's first thought was that the woman had discovered her identity and was about to force her to go home and await her punishment. "I apologise, but you look rather familiar. May I know which family you are from, my dear?" Her stepmother smiled, and relief flooded her chest.

So, her stepmother was not aware. But now she had to think of another name. "I am from the…" She hesitated for a moment, then she made up her mind, drawing from the history lessons she was forced to take as a child. "The Kamui family. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady…?" She lingered as though she didn't know who her stepmother was. The woman seemed surprised to hear of her false identity.

"I am Lady Hatsune, head of the Hatsune family. Not that there is much of a family left." She laughed, sounding bitter. Miku didn't comment, though it was tempting to blame her stepfamily for the decline of her family's legacy. There was no way this woman could have filled her father's shoes. "Kamui. Are you related to His Majesty then?" she asked, her gaze lingering on Miku. It made her feel a little uneasy.

Was His Majesty a Kamui? She didn't know about the family's connection to royalty. She only knew of the name from her childhood classes, and also because she vaguely recalled meeting someone from that family once, though that was a long time ago and she couldn't remember the person's face.

"We are distant relatives," she lied, figuring her stepmother wouldn't have a chance to talk to the king about this anyway. "I came to stay with an aunt from my mother's side of the family. I am not from this land." She curtseyed, keeping her manners in mind – she couldn't show any signs of displeasure, even if this woman _was_ partially responsible for her unhappy situation. "It is delightful to meet you, Lady Hatsune. I hope to have the privilege of your guidance as I settle into my new home."

"Spare me the formalities, Lady Kamui," her stepmother replied, in what Miku had to admit was a most gracious manner. "I came to speak with you because you look like someone I know. I am aware that you cannot be the same person since she is otherwise occupied, but the resemblance you share with her…it is uncanny."

"Someone that you know?" Miku asked. She knew perfectly well who her stepmother was referring to, but she wanted to see what the woman would say. "Would you mind sharing who she is? It would be amusing to see how much we look alike."

"It is no one of importance. Just a girl who lives in our manor," her stepmother answered. Miku guessed she would say that – there was no way anyone from her stepfamily would claim any relationship to her, be it through blood or through marriage. "On another note, Lady Kamui, I have two daughters who are both attending this ball tonight. They are rather interested in you, as are many others at this ball."

"I cannot understand why. I am a mere girl after all, and there is nothing interesting or special about me." She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. It was easy to play the part, to act like the demure maiden who fended off all praise and attention.

"I beg to differ. You caught His Highness' eye, and that is not something many girls can claim to have done." Her stepmother tilted her head as if to study her. "You danced with him the whole of last night, and there are whispers now about how he left the ballroom with you. Many ladies are jealous of the attention he gives you." She shook her head, a small smile on her face. "Young love! How I wish I could be young again, seeking the attention of the charming prince but only ever longing from afar."

"I am fortunate." She lowered her gaze. "He is interested in me because I am from another land. He speaks to me about travelling – he has the most fascinating tales to share. I am sure he would entertain any other lady as long as they are willing to listen to him." A blatant lie, but her stepmother didn't have to know that.

The woman looked disbelieving, but she didn't question further. "I see. Well," she cleared her throat, "I should not hold you up any longer. I hope you enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, Lady Kamui. If you wish, perhaps you could come to my manor one day and we could have a nice chat over some tea and biscuits."

Miku smiled and said she would think about it, and let out a sigh of relief once her stepmother was out of earshot. Keeping up her pretence in front of her stepmother was exhausting. She looked around, not wishing to be cornered by either of her stepsisters – Anastasia was chatting with a few other ladies, while Lucinda was at the other end of the ballroom, attempting to dance with some unfortunate young nobleman. Lucinda was a terrible dancer, and she kept stepping on his feet.

"My dear lady, I realised you never gave us your name." Another person spoke to her, but this time it wasn't someone she knew. Still, the voice was vaguely familiar, and she turned to face him, recognising the young man who gave her a ride to the ball. He smiled at her, clearly pleased to have caught her without Romeo.

He was very handsome, tall and dapper with bright blue eyes, an enthusiastic grin and dark navy hair that flopped carelessly over his forehead. She might have been more attracted to him if she could stop thinking of him like a clumsy puppy, seeking her attention. Not that she looked down on him or anything of that sort. It was just strange to see someone so obviously excited about talking to her.

"My name is Kamui Miki." Now that she had finally come up with an alias, it slipped off her tongue much easier, the words flowing so naturally that no one would have guessed she was lying. "I must thank you for the ride earlier. My family chose not to attend the ball tonight as my aunt is feeling poorly. I hope I am not intruding."

"No, of course not!" he answered, and she blinked, startled by the vehemence in his words. "You're most definitely welcome to take our carriage again tomorrow night, or whenever you may wish." He hesitated. "I hope my fervour does not make you uncomfortable?" he asked, and she wondered if he noticed the look on her face. She was unaccustomed to speaking with someone so earnest.

"No, it doesn't. You flatter me." She smiled and hoped he wasn't here to invite her to dance. She didn't want to, not with all these wondering strangers, at least not without Romeo – when he was around, no one dared to approach her. She doubted this young lord had the same kind of influence. "Any lady would be taken with your compliments, Lord…?"

"Oh, yes. You never got my name either, did you? Mother was monopolising the conversation." He laughed. "My name is Shion Kaito, though I suppose you might already know I am from the Shion family. Mother is proud of our heritage." She had the feeling he wanted to roll his eyes but refrained from doing so in front of her. "Are you a relative of His Majesty, Lady Kamui? I did not know he had any overseas family."

"I am a Kamui from my father's side of the family," she hastily made up," but I came to stay with my aunt, from my mother's side. The Lady Hatsune," she added, not knowing any other woman from the nobility and not wishing to make up a random name – Shion Kaito would be much harder to bluff than her stepmother, who was born working-class and married into the aristocracy.

"The Dowager Duchess Hatsune is your aunt? You are a true noble then." He took her hand and kissed it, surprising her. "It must be interesting, being related to two illustrious families." He paused for a moment, meeting her gaze. "May I ask if you have any particular reason for deciding to stay with the Dowager Duchess?"

"Ah…I suppose there is. My mother thought it would be better for me to come here and learn from my aunt about how to be a proper member of the nobility. Where I am from, we do not pay as much attention to social hierarchies." She lied through her teeth but figured the nobleman wouldn't question her that much. "And anyway, she was hoping I could find a nice man to marry." She threw that in to distract the young man from her background, and his eyes lit up with interest.

Before Lord Shion could say anything, she heard Romeo exclaim, and he sounded uncomfortably close. She turned – there he stood, only a few steps away from her, smiling at Lord Shion as though he was an old friend. For all she knew, they _were_ old friends. "Ah, Kaito!" he called. "I haven't seen you in a year, I believe? How are you, is your family doing well?"

Romeo sounded nothing like what she was used to, and she couldn't help but stare at him. He ignored her.

"I'm doing very well, Your Highness." Lord Shion bowed, only looking up when Romeo gestured at him to rise. "My father sends his blessings. Unfortunately, he is unable to attend the ball as he is settling some business matters. Our fishermen are still on strike, talking about monsters and demons in the sea. Which is rather nonsensical, if you ask me – there is no such thing as monsters."

Miku thought the conversation had taken a more interesting turn. It was better than trying to lie about her family history, at any rate. Romeo looked thoughtful. "I find that I agree with you, Kaito – after all, the only monsters in this world are men themselves," he remarked. It was a very philosophical comment, something that Miku had thought, up till this point, Romeo incapable of making.

Lord Shion looked a little uncomfortable. But Romeo's dazzling smile returned and he patted him on the shoulder. "Well, do enjoy yourself tonight, and pass my greetings to your parents, especially your father when he returns. I recall it has been some time since he and my father last spoke."

The other man nodded. "I will certainly let them know. Have a good evening, Your Highness." He cast both of them a lingering look before walking away. Miku watched his retreating back and only turned when Romeo waved a hand in front of her face. He seemed entertained, though she didn't know what he found so amusing.

She was tempted to glare at him. They ran into the king, of all people! The _king._ And she had been completely unprepared. "Are you smitten, Cinderella?" he asked. "Lord Shion is a nice man. Rather stick-in-the-mud, but he is kind and easy to take advantage of…ah, but keep that last part a secret." He grinned. "And his father is the Viscount of Chalice, which should satisfy your aunt. His peerage can be traced back for generations, and his family has considerable business influence."

She wasn't sure what expression she wore on her face, but his smile turned into something closer to a smirk and he placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her slightly to face the dancing crowd. "Otherwise, the blond man there by the pillar is Earl Akita Nero, son of the Marquis of Ashtonbury. Or over there, the one with the silver hair and heterochromatic eyes – Utatane Piko, the Viscount of Lexane. I can introduce you to anyone you want, Cinderella. As long as you move to the palace."

Of course, there had to be a point to that long-winded spiel. "And what of yourself, Prince Romeo?" she asked, curious about his title. "What esteemed peerage do _you_ come from?" He stiffened at her question, and for the longest time, he didn't say a thing. She began to wonder if her words had offended him.

"Nothing much, really," he finally answered. "I'm just the prince, that's all. I have the titles that come with being His Majesty's son, and that's that." His smile returned, though this time it looked a little forced. "Let's not talk about this. There are better things to devote our attention to. Is there anyone you would like to know about?"

"What about you?" she purred, surprised by how bold she was. His eyes widened through his mask and his smile relaxed, becoming a grin. Yes, this was what he was like around her – nothing like the formality he had when he was speaking with Lord Shion. That was the first time she saw him acting anything like royalty, and it was rather unsettling. She didn't know how she felt about it.

"I'll tell you more if you bless me with a dance," he answered, glancing at the dance floor. "The night is young, and I still wish to be entertained." She knew it would be rude to decline since he was the prince, and anyway, she _did_ wish to dance, so she took his hand and allowed him to lead her. She could only dance for a while before she had to leave, but she was going to enjoy herself to the fullest.

Tomorrow was the last night of the ball. It would be her last chance, and she could not afford to let herself go.

They danced in silence for a while, just moving quietly as the music flowed over them. She was used to the steps – she knew the pieces, they were what she danced and practised to as a child – so she took notice of other things. She saw the colour and elegance of the women and their dresses, the smiles of men and their wit and manner – she saw the lights and the marble of the ballroom, the sounds of laughter and music and making merry. It was a delightful feeling.

"What do you think of my father?" Romeo spoke, and she looked at him, startled by the sudden question. He was staring right back at her, and she thought about what to say – she had to be careful not to say anything that could be taken the wrong way. But honestly, the king hadn't left much of an impression on her. His appearance in the throne room stunned her, and she only felt relief when she was allowed to leave.

Len wondered if Gakupo was right in saying she didn't remember him. Truly, what were the odds of her being Hatsune Miku? He barely heard any news of that family since the head died. He didn't even think he would meet a Hatsune in his lifetime as the family was so small. Rumour had it that there was a curse on their bloodline, as every single generation only ever had one or two children. The Hatsune family would have died out with their daughter, unless…unless she was still alive.

What if Cinderella, the girl who adamantly refused to reveal her true name, was the last person to inherit the legacy of a Founding Family? In the past, the Hatsunes were the most prominent of them all – it made him think about how far the mighty had fallen. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumours about their curse.

"His Majesty?" Cinderella answered. "I think he is very polite, as befits a king." Her words were careful, and she was clearly wary since he was the son of the man they were discussing. He nodded, indicating that she should continue, and she inhaled. "I didn't know who he was when I first saw him, but some people have mentioned to me that he is from the Kamui family. So, he must be a very remarkable man."

"Indeed, that is so," he agreed. "But all the Great Houses are remarkable, wouldn't you say so? They must be if even a foreigner like you knows of their reputation." He eyed her, wondering if she would hesitate and lie to cover up her knowledge. The Four Founding Families were well-respected among the nobility, with every child expected to learn about their history. But he did not think a foreigner would be familiar with their background. What she knew was most suspicious.

However, her answer was smooth and poised, as though she knew he would raise questions. "I asked the people I spoke with why they were so awed by the Kamui name, and they gave me a brief lesson about this country's history." He could feel her fingers digging into his shoulder. "I also heard mention of the other three families as well – the Sakines, the Kagamines and the Hatsunes. Would you like to teach me more about them?"

"Why not?" He smiled, thinking if he could trick her into letting something slip. He doubted that her resemblance to the deceased Hatsune girl was mere coincidence. There was no such thing as coincidence. "The Sakine family is hot-headed, but a generous bunch. Their people love them. The Kamui family only has one son, who is my father. He _does_ have nephews and nieces, but their claim to the throne will come after mine." Len steered them easily away from the larger crowd, towards an area with fewer people – mostly the older nobles who showed less interest in the potential affair between the two of them. The less gossip there was, the better.

Cinderella listened, and he couldn't read the look on her face. "The Kagamines," he started, and the name sounded flat on his tongue. He still used the name even though he no longer belonged to that family. In a way, he was unable to completely let go, and part of him still didn't quite want to accept the responsibilities of the crown. Technically he was still the Marquis of Kinsen since his father had no right to remove his titles, but he would never use that one. He didn't want to.

"You hesitate, Your Highness. Could your knowledge perhaps be less in-depth than it seems?" Cinderella asked, and there was a slyness to her words that amused him – she was so unlike the other ladies. The faint moonlight that shone through the window beside them illuminated her face, and he was tempted to reach over and just take away her mask. What would she look like underneath it?

"No, I was simply gathering my thoughts." He exhaled. "The Kagamines. Where do I begin? They certainly have a legacy." The girl tilted her head as she listened to him. They weren't even dancing anymore – he held her close, the two of them just standing next to the window, caught up in their little world. "They have a wide network and are known for being cunning and vicious businesspeople. It's a pity they have no heir apparent. But the Duke is still quite young; perhaps he will marry another woman who can bear him a child." He shrugged.

There was silence for a while, then Cinderella cleared her throat, prompting him. "And what of the Hatsune family?" she asked. Now, _this_ was where things might get interesting. He focused on her face while he spoke, studying her expression in the hopes he would spark some kind of reaction.

"I heard they used to be highly favoured, and they were loved by their people. But from my understanding, the head of their family died six years ago and the entire bloodline has been in disarray ever since. I don't know what the Dowager Duchess is doing, but rumour has it that the family will soon disappear. Then we will be left with only three Great Houses. It's such a tragedy, don't you think so?"

It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. The mask was in the way, and that made it difficult to read her expression. "It does sound upsetting," she agreed, her voice perfectly placid. "Does the Hatsune family not have any descendants?"

If Cinderella was Hatsune Miku, then shouldn't she be distraught to hear about her family's decline? Or maybe she was just an excellent actress. Perhaps his father was wrong…but no, he didn't think his father would have suspected her for nothing.

"The current Dowager Duchess married into the family after the death of the first. From what I know, she and the late Duke had no children," he answered. "Some people question her standing. They say commoners lack the knowledge and etiquette necessary to maintain the family." He repeated rumours he heard from other aristocrats when they requested an audience with the king, discussing the Hatsune family's possible downfall. "If only the Hatsune bloodline didn't die out! Their only daughter died with her father, from what I've been told."

"Died?" Cinderella repeated, now sounding slightly confused. "How did she die? Was she ill?"

And here was his first hint that perhaps she _was_ who they thought she was. She didn't have any reason to care about this supposedly dead girl, did she? He hid a smile, staring out of the window so that she couldn't see the look on his face.

"People say she perished in a fire. The same one that killed her father." She didn't interrupt him, so he continued. "They were staying in a summer cottage when for some reason, it caught fire. Neither one of them made it out in time." He turned back to her, curious about her lack of response, and saw that she was staring at the floor with her hands clasped before her. "Are you all right?" he asked, a little concerned.

This was not like her usual behaviour. He was expecting some kind of comeback, not just silence, not like this. She looked up at the sound of his voice, and he could tell that her smile was plastered on her face.

"Yes, I'm fine." Her smile widened. He still wasn't convinced. He had three years to get used to forced smiles and fake laughter. "I just…I should be leaving now. My aunt will want to know where I went. She prefers that I do not stay out too late."

And he knew something was wrong, something had affected her during their conversation. It made him all the more certain that, even if she was not the dead girl, she was involved with her somehow, and he would get to the bottom of this. "I will see you again tomorrow, Prince Romeo." She curtsied and left quickly, slipping away into the dancing crowd. He let her go, watching her disappear.

She made him wonder. "Cinderella…" Her name rolled off his tongue, no longer as awkward to say as it was the first time. "You wish to marry a nobleman, don't you?" he mused. "How would you like to marry a prince instead?"


	7. Chapter 7

“Ridiculous,” Anastasia muttered as she let herself into the manor, “simply ridiculous!” Her mother and sister followed her inside, and with an imperious wave of her hand, she sent the coachman away. He bowed and backed down the driveway.

“There will be other noblemen,” her mother murmured, but Anastasia turned on the woman, her eyes blazing. The older woman stared back, her expression unreadable.

“Other men?” she scoffed. “You would have me throw aside my entire future and reputation for his pride!” At this, Miku came out from the kitchen, wondering what all the commotion was about. Lucinda was standing a little distance away from her sister and mother, clearly not wanting to be involved in this conflict.

“You know that I was merely discussing the possibility with his mother. It was not a fixed arrangement.” Her stepmother was calm, a stark contrast against Anastasia’s fury. “Ultimately, Lord Shion is still interested in our family. You are not the one he wishes to marry, but our families will still be joined. Was that not what you wanted? To have access to the Shion family’s coffers? You will still get what you asked for.”

“It is not simply about my plans now!” Anastasia screeched, the first time Miku had seen her do such a thing. Screeching was Lucinda’s forte, not Anastasia’s. “To think that Shion Kaito would choose _Lucinda_ over me! They’ve never even spoken to each other!” she seethed. “And it doesn’t matter whether our plans were finalised. The other nobles _knew_ , and now my reputation is in tatters. He declared his intention to marry another woman from our family in front of everyone at the ball!”

Anastasia broke down with a sob, covering her face with her hands. Lucinda, unused to doing anything besides ranting about her sister, hesitantly reached out to touch Anastasia’s shoulder. But her sister shook her hand off and fled from the parlour – she saw Miku standing by the stairs and her expression twisted into one of loathing. “You heard _nothing_ ,” she hissed, shoving her as she ran up the stairs. Luckily, Miku caught her balance and she glared up at the retreating girl.

With such behaviour, it was no surprise that her engagement was called off. What _did_ surprise her was the fact that her stepmother had planned an engagement in the first place, and Anastasia’s fiancé was supposed to be the young lord she met earlier tonight.

To marry another woman from their family…she already knew it was her. Beyond the initial look of horror all the noblemen gave Lucinda, Lord Shion probably had not even noticed the younger stepsister. Since she told him she was the niece of the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, he probably decided that marrying her would be pretty much the same as marrying Anastasia. Well, he was sorely mistaken.

The attention was flattering, but his feelings were unrequited. There was only one person she intended to marry, and it was not out of love. Falling in love with Romeo would only complicate things. And anyway, she was well aware that any girl who grew infatuated with him wouldn't have her affections returned.

But that wasn’t important. Once she married him, she’d have her way out. She could think about other things then, like how to get away from the palace or how to go about reclaiming her family name. Maybe she could convince him to annul their marriage after a few months. Then she would really be free.

She had one night left. Just one more night to receive a proposal from him, and all he had done was try to convince her to move to the palace and become his entertainer. To be fair, it was not a horrible offer, but she thought of it as a desperate alternative.

“Anastasia thinks she’s so beautiful that no man would ever choose me over her,” Lucinda suddenly commented. She looked bored. “I tried to console her about her loss to her little sister, but there’s not much I can do if she wants to push me away.” She looked towards her mother and stepsister for validation, and when both of them remained silent, she sighed. “I don’t know her fiancé, or whatever he is. Why should I marry someone I’ve never met?” she demanded.

“Well, he said he absolutely _must_ marry the other young lady in our household, and try as we might his mother and I couldn’t change his mind. I’m afraid you’ll just have to go through with it, as we need a stable source of income.” Miku had to agree with her stepmother. Even if she wasn’t fond of the woman, she knew what she was doing.

Lucinda sighed again. “I don’t even know what he looks like. Are you trying to sell your daughter away?” Miku suppressed a snort. “And besides, I only have eyes for the prince!” she added, and the mention of Romeo caught her attention. “After that girl left the ball, he spoke to me, you know. We had a quick chat about the Hatsune family history. I think he’s interested in me.”

Miku was too distracted by her comment to ridicule Lucinda’s daydreaming. Romeo was interested in her family…why so? He told her that the Hatsune family’s daughter had perished in _that_ fire. But here she was, still alive. She had no idea how the rumour about her being dead started. Who was spreading such lies, and what were their intentions in doing so?

She had been tempted to tell him the truth about her identity, right there and then. But then she considered his sudden interest, the way he dangled those rumours in front of her, and she wondered that maybe he _suspected_ who she was. He phrased things too delicately, and she could tell he was trying to gauge her response to his words. She couldn’t think of any reason for this besides the king saying something. For all she knew her father had committed treason and they wanted to punish her in his stead. She had no idea, but she wasn’t risking anything.

Until she was certain of Romeo's motivations for investigating her, she would be careful. It had been stressful, being interrogated by him – it was both quick thinking and sheer luck that she didn’t let anything slip. The six years she suffered here also helped her maintain her façade when his questioning took her by surprise.

Her stepmother was talking, and Miku stopped thinking over her situation. “He’s a tall young man with navy hair and blue eyes.” The woman was describing the lord for her daughter’s benefit. “The son of the Viscount of Chalice. You thought he was handsome – you pointed him out at the ball and said he seemed charming.”

Lucinda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Oh, so _that’s_ Lord Shion?” She averted her gaze, turning towards the staircase, and Miku could see the gloating grin on her face. “Then that changes things. I’d be delighted to speak with him at the ball about our upcoming marriage!” she chirped, whirling around to face her mother again.

Miku was not pleased about that. She couldn’t let Lucinda and Lord Shion talk to each other – if the brat brought up the engagement, Lord Shion would say that he was interested in the Dowager Duchess’ niece, not her. And that would open a whole can of worms Miku was not prepared to deal with.

But if she spent the whole night tomorrow distracting Lord Shion and keeping him away from Lucinda, then how could she talk to Romeo? It was her _last night_ – she couldn’t just ignore him. She planned to continue playing her part and not rising to his bait, and hopefully, his curiosity would grow to the point that he proposed to her out of sheer intrigue. She doubted she could make him fall in _love_ with her.

She exhaled, frustrated. Furthermore, there was nothing to prevent Lord Shion from coming to the manor with his carriage tomorrow to search for her, now that he knew who she was – or so he thought. She could hardly think of a worse scenario. Right now, her best bet was that his _stick-in-the-mud_ tendencies, or however Romeo put it, coupled with his good manners would ensure that he did not try to surprise her.

So far, she was fortunate enough to attend the ball twice without rousing her stepfamily’s suspicion. Maybe her streak of good luck would continue. She shook her head – it had been a mistake allowing the young noble to find her at the ball. Maybe she should have just stayed outside the throne room, waiting for Romeo to come out, instead of going back to the ball on her own. She _knew_ Lord Shion would not have dared to approach her if he was by her side.

It was too late for regrets now. She couldn’t turn back time. Lifting her gaze, she saw Lucinda flouncing away from the parlour in the direction of the kitchen, looking for her supper. She was left alone with her stepmother, who was staring at her in a way reminiscent of how she looked at her when she claimed to be Kamui Miki. Her heart sped up as she began to wonder if her stepmother had put two and two together, and she promptly looked at the floor again, breaking eye contact.

After a while, she heard footsteps and felt her stepmother brush past her. She kept her gaze averted until she was sure the woman was gone, and when she finally heard the sound of a door opening and closing, she exhaled. She had to be careful. It was impossible to tell what was on her mind, and she didn’t want to draw further attention to herself. It was a good thing that Anastasia was so distraught – at least the family was distracted enough that no one was discussing the mysterious girl.

Hopefully, the older stepsister was not so upset that she would refuse to attend the ball tomorrow night. But she ought to come up with a plan just in case that happened. It was always better to be prepared.

Perhaps she could brew some relaxing tea? Nodding to herself, she hurried off to the manor’s library, deciding to read up on which herbs or flowers would produce something that could induce drowsiness. Thankfully, most of the herbs she noted were available in the pantry, save for chamomile – she could ask one of the other servants to get some from the market tomorrow.

The next day, while the other servants were in the house carrying out their tasks, she busied herself with her concoction. No one bothered her, and her stepfamily all stayed in their rooms the entire morning, much to her relief. She lifted the lid of the kettle again, checking the liquid, and the calming scent of a herbal infusion wafted up to her nose. She had added lavender, chamomile, valerian and passionflower. The scent of the herbs was a bit strange but relaxing.

She was thankful that there were so many books in the library – her mother had always been an avid reader. It didn’t take long for her to find several books about plants, and by the time she was done with her research she had compiled a long list of herbs that were known for their strong sedative properties. Taking a final sniff, she put the lid back on the kettle, a small smile curving her lips. The other servants regarded her curiously, but no one approached her to ask what she was doing.

“Cinderella!” Lucinda’s voice pierced the air, snapping her out of her thoughts. She left her simmering tea to answer to the brat. Though the other servants continued to ignore her, she saw one or two of them giving her sympathetic looks – they were all used to the way her stepfamily treated her, but no one ever tried to defend her. Not that she blamed them. They were paid to work for the household, after all. And they had to protect their income, even if they knew how unfairly she was treated.

If only she had been left with a guardian until she was twenty-one and able to inherit her father’s title without his new wife interfering. She reached Lucinda’s door, the floor above the kitchen, and knocked thrice before she went in. She had barely closed the door when Lucinda began shrieking again. Miku glanced at the girl and her eyes widened as she saw the pimples that had broken out all over the younger girl’s face. “Look at this!” she screeched. “Look at my _beautiful_ face!”

“What happened?” Miku asked, pressing her lips together and ferociously fighting the urge to laugh. Lucinda was too distracted by her outbreak to notice the way Miku was shaking. “Your skin was fine last night. Did you do something?”

“I did _nothing_!” Lucinda spat. “It must have been Anastasia. The old cow! She’s just jealous I got chosen over her! I always told her she was hideous!” Lucinda picked up one of her jewellery boxes and, with yet another scream of frustration, dashed it to the ground. Miku stared as the box shattered, precious pearls and gems rolling all over the floor. “She gave me a muffin to eat last night. I knew there was something strange about it, she’s never so nice to me, but I thought it might be her attempt at losing gracefully so I ate one. Then I wake up and this is what I look like!”

She blinked, trying to understand the situation. She was no expert, but she didn’t think there was any food item that could cause such a terrible outbreak overnight. Lucinda wasn’t exaggerating how bad it was – there was a whole cluster of large pimples on Lucinda’s left cheek, glowing a distracting red, along with another triangular formation on her forehead. These were angry boils, and no amount of powder was going to cover them up.

“But if that is the case, where did she get the muffin from? Last night, the only food left in the house was bread, cheese and milk. Unless she got the muffin elsewhere and put _something_ in it to cause this…” she suggested.

“She took it from the ball.” Lucinda appeared to have calmed down a little, though her eyes were still narrowed. Miku tried to avoid looking at her nose, where another pimple was throbbing in the most distracting manner. “She said it was so excellent that she saved me one, and in hindsight, I should have been more suspicious. Oh, I was such a fool,” she moaned, “to have trusted someone like my sister!”

“Perhaps your outbreak is simply a coincidence?” Miku failed to see how Anastasia could have tampered with the muffin if it was taken from the ball. It was true that the older sister’s sudden thoughtfulness was unusual, but if the muffin was meant for guests at the ball then there couldn’t have been anything wrong with it.

“A coincidence?” Lucinda had resumed screeching. “A mere _coincidence_? Don’t be stupid! How many times has my skin suffered this way? It never has!” She shook her head forcefully. Miku, however, knew the truth – Lucinda was prone to breakouts, especially when she stood in the sun for too long. It was just something she didn’t want to acknowledge, so she always pretended she had flawless skin.

“Anastasia caused this. She’s not going to the ball tonight because she does not wish to face a man who could love me instead of her. Well,” Lucinda drew herself up to her full height, which truthfully wasn’t very tall, “I will stay in the manor too! She’s going to _wish_ she never stayed home!” she declared.

Miku plastered a smile on her face, though inwardly she groaned. Luckily she had that tea brewing in the kitchen. She ought to have more than enough for both of the stepsisters. She probably had enough left for her stepmother too, since it was likely the older woman would not attend the ball if her daughters weren’t going. There was maybe another hour before the tea was ready, which meant she didn’t have much time – it was already mid-afternoon, and she’d have to start getting ready soon.

With a few distracted words of comfort, she excused herself, heading towards the stairs. The back of her neck prickled and she turned around, meeting Anastasia’s gaze – the older stepsister watched her leave Lucinda’s room, her expression hostile. Her brown eyes narrowed when Miku looked at her, and she ducked back inside her room, slamming the door. Miku wondered about her strange behaviour.

She went back to the kitchen where she had spent most of her day, just waiting for her tea to reach its maximum strength. She considered whether she ought to sedate her stepmother since she didn’t dislike her as much as she did the two sisters, but decided it was better to be safe than sorry. She already had the tea anyway.

The minutes ticked past, and slowly all the servants completed their duties for the day, bidding her farewell as they left the manor. She stayed in the kitchen, watching her kettle as the herbal smell got stronger. Finally, as the sky turned different shades of orange and pink, the last servant finished his chores and left, and she decided the tea had brewed for long enough.

Tossing sand on the fire, she wore her gloves and grasped the handle of the kettle, removing it from the fireplace. She would leave the embers to die out on their own. She didn’t like dealing with fire. The warmth of the handle radiated through even the thick mitts she wore, and she was glad to set the kettle down on the kitchen counter.

She looked around for cups, trying to find the three largest they had. Placing them next to the kettle, she carefully poured the tea into the first one. The liquid was a rich, dark amber, and the smell was strangely intoxicating – it was completely unlike anything she ever smelled before. Instinctively her nose wrinkled, and when she was done filling the first cup, she pushed it away from her. Hopefully, the three women would not pay too much attention to the smell and just drink the tea.

She continued pouring the brew into the other cups, then rummaged around the kitchen, searching for a tray. Managing to find one, she put the empty kettle aside and set the three cups on the tray, making a mental note to later clean the kettle and get rid of the herbs at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, she went up the stairs with her tray in hand, deciding to start with Lucinda, the most gullible and _annoying_ of the trio.

She knocked on the door and heard a sullen “come in”. Pushing the door open with her free hand, she looked around to see what the brat was doing – she was seated in front of her dresser, staring at her reflection, touching the pimples on her face. “What do you want?” Lucinda turned away from the mirror, her eyes narrowing.

“I made this herbal tea which, according to the books, will help you recover from your outbreak as quickly as possible,” she answered. Lucinda raised her eyebrows as Miku approached, the intoxicating, slightly bitter smell of herbs wafting from the tray. “If you rest for a while after taking this drink, your pimples might even disappear quick enough for you to attend the ball tonight,” she added, knowing this would no doubt pique Lucinda’s interest.

“Truly?” Lucinda eyed the cups, then looked up at her, still suspicious. “Well, I’ll believe you then. Naturally, you’d want to help me recover, I’m such a darling and I treat you so well.” She grabbed a cup, not noticing the look of disgust that flitted across Miku’s face. Lucinda drained the tea and placed the empty cup on her dresser, her face twisting. “That’s so bitter. What a foul drink. But it does make me feel a little drowsy.” Her eyelids fluttered and she yawned. Miku was surprised – she didn’t expect the sedative effect to kick in so quickly. “When I wake up, my face will be all clear and perfect again. Now get out of here, I need my beauty sleep.”

Miku did as Lucinda ordered, though she wished she could tell the brat that no amount of sleep would save her ugly face. She decided to give the drink to Anastasia next – hopefully, she would still be so upset that she wouldn’t question the tea. She would likely be the hardest to persuade, so Miku had created a list of benefits for this tea that she hoped would be enough to convince Anastasia.

She knocked on the door, and hearing no answer, she pushed it open and entered the room. Anastasia was sitting on her bed, her back facing the wall as she moved her hands – probably knitting again. She looked around when Miku came in, a scowl on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot. “What do you want?” she spat, and at this moment she looked nothing like the noble lady she claimed to be.

Her brown hair was messy – she clearly had not bothered to brush her hair upon waking. Crust from dried tears covered her cheeks, and her nose was slightly red and runny. Miku wasn’t sure if she looked more disgusting or pitiful.

“I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation last night,” she said carefully, and in response, Anastasia flung one of the things she was holding at her – Miku managed to dodge the knitting needle. “It’s a terrible shame that the young lord chose Lucinda. We all know that as the oldest, you should be the first to get married, and you are so much more graceful and elegant than Lucinda is.” She had always been a good liar.

Anastasia’s face contorted into a grimace. “I don’t need your flattery. I never loved him – we only met twice before the ball anyway. But how dare he spurn me in front of everyone else!” Anastasia must still be considerably upset to be venting in front of Miku. “How dare he say that he is interested in another lady from my family. What does _she_ have that I do not?” she cried. “She’s nothing but a spoilt brat who gets anything she asks for, whereas I have to slave away for _nothing_!”

Miku failed to see how Anastasia slaved away for anything but chose not to share her opinion. “Well, I understand,” she murmured, going a little closer – Anastasia was staring at the wall, and Miku wasn’t sure if she was still aware of her presence. “And that’s why I brewed some tea. It’s good for relieving stress.” She placed the tray on the bedside table, holding a cup out for her. “It will help you.”

Suddenly, Anastasia lunged for the cup, grabbing it from Miku’s hand. She drained the contents and threw the cup at the opposite wall. The cup shattered. “There, I drank it,” she snapped. “Now stop bothering me. Don’t forget to clean that up – I’m going to take a nap, and I want to see the mess gone when I wake up.” She set her knitting aside and lay down on her bed, curling up and turning away from Miku.

Miku’s smile dropped from her face. She picked up the tray with the last cup of tea and left the room – it would be nice to slam the door, but she didn’t want to wake the girl. She would not clean up the broken pieces. Anastasia could do that herself.

Now she only had her stepmother to contend with. She went down the hallway and knocked on the door, awaiting her stepmother’s reply. There was no response, so she opened the door and saw her stepmother already fast asleep. Thankful she didn’t have to talk to the woman, who was too perceptive for her liking, she put the tea on the bedside table and hoped the woman would drink it when she woke up.

Now that her brew had been distributed, she decided to check on all three women again before she began her preparations – she wanted them to be as deeply asleep as possible. Lucinda and Anastasia were both in bed and she left her stepmother’s room alone since she had been there just recently. Satisfied they were all out cold, she went to the shared bathing chamber on the second floor – it wasn’t as pleasant as Lucinda’s, but it was enough for her.

She was quite excited about going to the ball. She had saved her loveliest dress for last, and she wondered how she’d look in it. Hopefully, things would be interesting – it _was_ the final night, after all. Perhaps Romeo would have some grand finale in store.


	8. Chapter 8

She smoothed her hands over her dress, feeling a little self-conscious. This was easily the most eye-catching outfit she had worn, with its rich, almost bloody hue and the delicate black lace lining her waist and collar.

Her mask should continue to hide her identity though. It was black again today, with decorative silver swirls etched on the edges to give it a little flair. She had put together this outfit to leave an impression – this could either be the start of a new life or her last night of freedom in a long while, so she had to give her very best effort.

As she walked towards the gate, she started thinking about her transport. She knew that Lord Shion would gladly send her to the ball again, but knowing what she did now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be anywhere near him. It would probably be awkward, especially if he proposed to her while they were in the carriage.

She opened the gate and slipped out to the main road, ensuring the gate fell back into position behind her. At the same time, she heard the clopping of hooves against the pavement and looked around. A carriage, drawn by two magnificent white horses, came to a stop in front of her. This was not Lord Shion’s carriage – his carriage was basic black, nothing too fancy.

This one was painted white to match the horses and polished to a bright gleam, with thick curtains covering the windows so that passers-by couldn’t look inside. Whoever owned this carriage was probably an important person.

The coachman looked down at her, his face expressionless. He gestured for her to get inside the carriage, and she hesitated, suspicious. “Who is inside?” she asked. He simply shook his head, gesturing more forcefully this time.

She was about to refuse when she heard the sound of another carriage approaching – glancing down the road, she saw a black carriage headed towards her, and she guessed _that_ was Lord Shion. Deciding to take the risk, she got onto the strange carriage, and once she was safely inside the horses trotted off.

Looking out of the window, she exhaled in relief, glad that she didn’t have to face the young nobleman. “Avoiding someone?” She heard an unfamiliar voice and turned to face the stranger sitting opposite her – her gaze settled on a handsome young man with silvery hair and beautiful eyes, one blue and one green. His elbow was on the windowsill, and he rested his chin on the back of his hand.

He looked vaguely familiar, and she tried to recall who he was for she was certain she had seen him at the ball – suddenly she remembered Romeo whispering in her ear and something in her memory clicked. “You’re the Viscount of Lexane.”

“Oh? You know who I am. I thought you might not, being a foreigner.” He turned his gaze towards the window, watching the road go past through a small gap in the curtains. She observed him for a while – if she had to be honest, he was a stunning man, and she guessed that he wasn't any older than Romeo himself.

“How do you know who I am? And where I live?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Not that I do not appreciate your thoughtfulness in giving me a lift to the ball, Viscount. But I don’t recall us ever speaking with each other before this.”

“The prince was with you every moment of the ball. Who would dare to approach you?” He raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. “Rumours are floating all over the place about the mysterious lady no one had ever seen before the ball. They say she’s the niece of the Dowager Duchess Hatsune. Naturally, this piqued my interest.”

That annoyed her. It meant that Lord Shion had likely been talking about her the whole of last night. It was a miracle that her stepfamily hadn’t found out about the rumours. It made her wonder, though – did this mean Romeo knew what people were saying as well?

If he did, then he would know she was lying. After all, he and the king were both from the Kamui family. Unless they _did_ happen to have a distant family member named Kamui Miki, but it would raise questions either way. She ought to be more cautious later. “Anyway, I came to your residence to speak with you. I was prepared to seek your aunt’s permission to escort you today, but it appears that is not necessary?”

She could guess by the questioning tone of his voice that he was wondering where her so-called aunt was. “My aunt is feeling poorly today, as are my cousins. They will not be attending the ball tonight.” A smirk flitted across his face at her words, and she frowned. “Does something amuse you, Viscount?”

"I wouldn’t expect your cousins to attend even if they were feeling well. Lord Shion rejected Lady Anastasia quite cruelly last night, after all. And in front of so many people at that. Things might have been more amusing if she decided to come out and face him, but I suppose that won’t be happening.”

There was light, almost playful malice in his words, and it made her skin prickle. He cleared his throat, leaning back into the plush leather seat and removing his elbow from the windowsill. “You know I’m not here just for pleasantries.” His voice had gone from a languid drawl to something more businesslike, and it made her sit up and listen. “My father asked me to speak to you, so of course, I am obliged to…” He frowned, reaching up to flick his long silver bangs out of his eyes. She waited. This ought to be important.

“If you are from the Kamui family,” the nobleman started, “then that makes you part of the Four Great Houses. My father has some interest in their history. And he’d be grateful if you could answer a few of his questions.” His gaze flitted away from her, and she tilted her head, wondering what those questions were.

She probably wouldn’t be able to answer any of them, but this intrigued her. “I’ll try my best. As you know I wasn’t born and raised here, so I’m not very familiar with the history of the Great Houses. I only share the Kamui bloodline.”

He nodded. “I am aware.” He looked at her with those beautiful, piercing eyes, and she had the strange feeling that he was picking her apart, looking into her very soul. “It’s about the Order of Bethlehem. I’m not sure if you have heard of it before.”

She shook her head. “It’s not familiar to me.” When she was young, she read widely about the Four Great Houses since every noble had to be knowledgeable about the country’s history and origins, but she didn’t recall coming across this term before.

He watched her. “I see. In that case, let me share with you what the Order is. The Order of Bethlehem is said to be a secret society founded by the heads of the Four Great Houses. No one knows whether it still exists or if it has been disbanded. But my father would like to find out more about its background.”

“Is there any reason for his curiosity?” she asked. This Order sounded mysterious but even after his explanation, it rang no bells. He shrugged.

“My father is a historian. He intends to record the entire history of the country and its founders in a tome so that future generations would never forget about the past. He wanted me to assist him, so here I am.” He stared at her, and she suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t just looking at her – he was _studying_ her. “You know, I believe this is the first time I’ve seen a Kamui with teal hair. Isn’t that a trademark of the Hatsune family?”

“The Kamui and Hatsune families are on friendly terms with each other. I am related to both – perhaps that is why my hair is this colour?” She hoped he wouldn’t probe further. Her hair was too distinctive to be explained away in any convincing manner.

He frowned. “But…” His voice trailed off and he paused, considering. “Never mind. It’s not important. Could you do me a favour and perhaps ask your family if they know of the Order? It would help my father a great deal with his research.”

It sounded like a harmless enough request. She could always lie and say that she didn’t learn anything, and agreeing now would probably help win her some favour with his family. If he was so young and already a viscount, then his family was likely important. “I will. May I ask, though? Why was this Order formed, to begin with?”

And how did his father even know about it if it was a secret society? He shrugged again. “If we knew we wouldn’t be asking for your help. What I can tell you is that they apparently had a certain… _unorthodox_ set of beliefs. That’s all I know.”

“Very well. I have one final question.” She paused. “I don’t mind helping you, but I’d like to know why you came to _me_. Is there no one else you can ask about this? It’s strange that you would talk to a foreigner regarding domestic matters.”

He smiled. “That’s a good question, so I’ll answer. As a foreigner, you don’t know much about the state of affairs here, do you?” She shook her head. “The Hatsunes are all but extinct, so there’s no one from that family to ask. The Sakines refuse to discuss this – believe me, I've tried. His Majesty is too busy to entertain such questions, while his son is rather…prickly. And the Kagamines have always been difficult to deal with.”

“So, it was a matter of elimination?” she asked. He nodded, and she found herself feeling slightly relieved – so it wasn’t that he thought she was special or anything. It was just because he had no one else to turn to. “I’ll let you know if I learn something.”

“Thank you, Lady Kamui.” He was gorgeous when he smiled like this, and it made her feel a little strange. She simply couldn’t match the angelic-looking man with the faint thread of malice she heard running through his words earlier. “Out of personal curiosity, may I ask – are you looking for someone to marry at the ball?”

She blinked, startled by the unexpected question. “Yes, I am,” she affirmed, though she wondered why he was asking. Surely he did not intend to propose to her. Lord Shion alone was more than enough to keep her hands full.

“Why would you wish to tie yourself down so young?” The surprise in his words was familiar, and she was reminded of Romeo's reaction when she told him that she wanted to get married. “Once you get married, you lose yourself. Suddenly all you need to focus on is your husband, the household and the children. It sounds terrible. I would never get married if I had the choice. I’d just be my own person forever.”

“Do you have a choice, though?” she asked.

He chuckled. “As the only son of the Utatane family? No, I don’t.” He exhaled, and she blinked – the Utatane family. Now that was a name she was familiar with. Miku could never keep track of all the different titles the nobles liked to throw about, but she could remember their family names. There were not many of them, after all.

The Utatanes were one of the most important families in the country. The head of their family was a Marquis, placing them only one title below the Four Great Houses. Agreeing to help him had been a good choice.

“Do you already have a fiancée, then?” It seemed like the most natural thing to ask. But his expression soured at her question, and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing. “I apologise if that offends you. You need not answer if you do not wish to,” she added, observing his face. He relaxed a little.

“No, I wasn’t offended. You don’t seem like one of… _those_ ladies.” He shuddered, and again she was reminded of Romeo. These two were more similar than she initially thought. Maybe they knew each other. “At the moment, there’s no one in mind. My mother has been trying to change this, but I would prefer that she didn't.”

“You sound a lot like His Highness,” she remarked, unable to help herself. His eyes widened slightly, and then he laughed, leaning back into his seat.

“Ah, him? Yes, I suppose I would sound like him. We know each other, actually,” he hummed, drumming his fingers against his knee. “We attended the same school when we were younger. We used to be good friends.”

“Used to?” That caught her attention. This sounded interesting. Any information she could glean about Romeo now might be useful in the future.

“Yes. Then he became the prince and stopped having time for anyone else.” He sighed. “Oh, I don’t want you to think that we’re on bad terms. Far from it, really. Just that we used to be closer.” He met her gaze. “From what I’ve seen so far, it appears that you are quite eager to draw his attention.”

She didn’t try to deny it. “Most ladies would be. He is the prince, after all. Doesn’t every maiden wish to be a princess someday?” At least she knew Lucinda did.

He shook his head. “I wish you all the best with that.” The look in his eyes was almost pitying, and it didn’t sit well with her. “I believe he’s still pining for his dead fiancée. They had a very close relationship, you know. It was disgusting. He couldn’t stop talking about her, even when we were having our lessons.”

“She’s dead?” she echoed, surprised. She didn’t know that. Romeo only said he had a fiancée three years ago – she assumed something must have happened for them to call off the engagement, but she didn’t think the girl had _died_.

“Oh, you aren’t aware of that. Yes, she’s dead. It’s a real shame. They were distant cousins, engaged since they were children,” he answered. “It was meant to be a political marriage, but somehow or other he managed to fall in love with his fiancée, and he hasn’t been able to move on since her death. How else do you think he got that ridiculous nickname?"

Romeo. It made sense now. “What’s his real name? I only know his nickname.” He gave her an incredulous look and she felt the need to defend herself, his stare making her feel rather insulted for some reason. “I’m not from these parts! How would I know?”

“You’ve been with him for two nights and you don’t know his name?” He exhaled. “Well, allow me to enlighten you in that case. Before he was cursed with that ridiculous, pompous nickname, he was known as –”

The carriage suddenly jerked to a halt, interrupting hi, and the door was pulled open. Romeo stood right outside the carriage, an uncharacteristically bright smile on his face. Miku wanted to sigh. Surely this was too coincidental?

“I’ve been expecting you, Piko!” He leant against the carriage door. He was wearing a vivid red mask with a black lace overlay, and his clothes were similar to last night’s – a pure black outfit with a vivid rose on his lapel. “Please let your father know that I’ve received his present, and his generosity is deeply appreciated.” His gaze drifted lazily to her and his blue eyes widened a fraction. “Oh? It’s you. I didn’t see you there. How did you manage to convince Piko to share his carriage?”

“Ah, I saw her outside her manor and offered to send her here. We’re talking about marriage now." Piko cut in with a sunny smile on his face, and Miku stared at him. They _had_ been talking about marriage, but did he have to phrase it in that manner? Now it sounded like they intended to get engaged or something.

Romeo's lips curved upwards. “Marriage?” he asked. “What happened to the Utatane Piko who stubbornly insisted that he’d rather _die_ before he was tied down to any woman?”

Piko chuckled. “Well, as we grow older, our responsibilities get in the way. You should know how that feels.” He paused, exchanging a look with Romeo. “I wish we could just stay young boys forever, but wishes rarely come true, do they?”

As he spoke, Piko reached into his coat, pulling out a pure white mask and placing it over his eyes. “I suppose you can say that,” Romeo agreed, stepping back so that they could disembark. Piko got off first, and she followed him, taking care not to step on her skirt. Romeo extended his hand to her and she took it, grateful for the support. Piko simply watched the two of them.

She had to wonder what he was thinking. He was quite difficult to read. From their conversation just now, it seemed like he could oscillate between being friendly and being outright malicious, and it was difficult for her to respond well to someone like that.

“So, Piko. Where’s my present?” Romeo turned towards him, and she could hear the humour in his voice. Piko looked heavenwards. It was the first time she’d seen either of them so _relaxed_. They clearly went back a long way.

“Is the gift my father provided not sufficient? If not, I recall a well-made apple and cinnamon pie could always lift your spirits…though I might be inclined to decorate the pie with your face.” Romeo laughed, but Miku imagined he wouldn’t have taken that comment so kindly if it came from anyone else. “I also recall that you always forced our juniors to bake pies for you. Quite the bully in your youth, weren’t you, Your Highness?”

“It’s not bullying if they offered to help,” he countered. Piko shook his head. “What do you think of this man, Cinderella?” Romeo suddenly asked, ignoring the puzzled look that appeared on Piko's face when he used her nickname. “We attended Easton College together when we were children. He was never really the sociable type. Hated sports of any kind.”

Easton College. It was a prestigious school every aristocrat went to – in high society, any nobleman worth his salt graduated from there. It was a rite of passage of sorts, and families all paid the astronomical fees just so they could declare that their sons had attended the school. Only the very best could graduate from that place.

Even she had heard of Easton College before, despite not being a boy. Her father joked once about sending her in disguise to enrol in the school. Her mother said no.

“I didn’t _hate_ sports,” Piko corrected. “I just thought there were better ways to spend my time. It’s not as though the other houses offered any decent challenge.”

“Fair enough. The rest of them were terrible.” Romeo appeared to be enjoying himself, but she had to wonder how much of it was an act. He was a good actor if the way he spoke to Lord Shion last night was anything to go by. For all she knew, how he was behaving with Piko now was no more than pretence too.

“I think he is very elegant, and quite charming as well,” she answered. Piko raised an eyebrow at her remark, which made her feel a little embarrassed, but she was speaking the truth. Romeo nodded, and she wondered what he thought of her comments. Would he try to match the two of them up? She hoped not.

“We are near the ballroom, so I doubt you need to be escorted any further. I wish to speak with Cinderella about certain matters, so I’m afraid that I won't be able to join you, Piko.” Romeo sounded almost apologetic. Piko didn't protest - he simply nodded and left. Once he was gone, Romeo inhaled and turned around to face her.

“Are you fond of him?” he asked. She didn’t answer, and he sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “I hope you would reconsider if you are. He’s not a bad man by any means, just that he _can_ be rather intense, and it takes a certain sort of person to deal with him.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” He had seemed quite civilised in the carriage, though again that hint of spite she detected in his voice lingered in the back of her mind. It seemed like there was more to Utatane Piko than just the cordial viscount who was friends with Romeo. “We weren’t talking very much, but he seems pleasant.”

“What _were_ you two talking about?” he asked, and she could see curiosity in his blue eyes. She wondered if she ought to tell him about the Order of Bethlehem, but then again Piko had mentioned that Romeo was _prickly_ about it, whatever that meant. Maybe it would be better to keep the Order a secret for now.

“Mostly the reason that he wanted to avoid getting married. In a way, he reminded me of you.” He cocked his head and she clarified. “It’s the way you both reacted when you found out about my intentions to settle down. He too was quite taken aback.” She frowned. “Is it really that surprising to see a lady hoping for a good hand in marriage?”

His lips quirked up. “No, not particularly. But for you? A little.” She could feel his gaze lingering upon her. “For me, it’s not so much the fact you wish to get married that’s surprising. What’s shocking is that you feel a need to _look_ for suitors.”

It sounded like he was complimenting her. “My aunt told me that I should look out for only the best,” she answered, not knowing how else to respond.

“She makes a fair point.” He nodded. “A maiden as lovely as you should deserve nothing but the best, isn’t it?”

Miku didn’t know how to react, so she decided to change the topic. “The viscount said that in the past, you spoke very often of your fiancée.” He froze. “You still love her, don’t you? That’s why you said you weren’t ready to let anyone inside your heart. Because until now you have yet to let go of her.”

“Mind your words, Cinderella.” His voice was even, but she could sense the tension that simmered underneath his measured tone. “I don’t wish to talk about my past now, so enough about me. Would you be interested in finding out more about Piko? He seems to be a good marriage candidate, don’t you think?”

Wasn’t he just warning her about him a moment ago? “He would be acceptable,” she answered. No doubt Piko would make an excellent husband for any other noble lady. Just not her. “He is the son of a marquis, after all. My aunt and mother would approve of him. But he is not someone I wish to marry.”

“Oh? I see.” He leant in a little closer, and she wasn't sure how to respond to him crowding her personal space. “You know, most of the noblemen attending this ball were former schoolmates of mine, or they have personal dealings with my father. You’d be challenged to find a better selection of men elsewhere. So, if Piko does not appeal to you, just tell me what you’re searching for, and I’ll be sure to narrow down the list of potential suitors accordingly.”

If most of the noblemen here were from Easton, then he was right – it’d be impossible to find another group of bachelors so desirable anywhere else. “What I’m looking for?” she echoed. “Well…I’d like someone of high standing. Someone who can be both serious and mischievous, someone who defies conventions.” She stared at him, a not-very-subtle hint. “With blue eyes and blond hair,” she added for good measure. He blinked, perhaps surprised by her boldness, but then a slow smile crossed his lips. It made him look outright wicked.

“I’ll see what strings I can pull,” he answered. “Now, we have been talking out here for a while now, so it’s about time we went inside. Would you care to join me for the first dance of the night?” He extended a hand, and she willingly placed her hand in his, hoping that her words would amuse him enough to change his mind. Perhaps she could emphasise again that she _had_ to get married, or there would be no way for her to move to the palace. She didn’t have any better ideas at this point.

He drew her into the ballroom, and she went with him, ignoring the many faces that turned towards her at their arrival. She could feel it in her bones, the buzzing cheer and excitement building up within the crowd. _Tonight_ would be the night for sure.


	9. Chapter 9

"So, where would you find this blond-haired, blue-eyed man with his rakish sense of humour?" Romeo asked, stopping a waiter and getting two glasses of wine.

She took the glass he offered, though she didn't drink. "I don't suppose the ball would have such a person?" she answered, curious about how he might respond. This game they played entertained her; she found her lips curving into a smile.

"Well, whoever could win the heart of someone so capricious would certainly be a lady to be respected." He grinned, toasting her. She touched her glass to his and watched as he finished the wine in a few quick gulps. "I always felt like there ought to be more wine at such festivities. My father is remarkably stingy with the alcohol."

"You must drink often," she noted, and he ducked his head in a show of mock embarrassment. She held out her glass for him, and he didn't even pause before taking it. "I don't drink much, myself. Wine does not favour my sensibilities." She had never tested her limits before, nor did she intend to try.

Talking about drinking and embarrassment made her think of Lucinda. She thought about her step-family and wondered how deep into their slumber they were – she was not sure how long the effects of the drink would last, but she figured it would be safest to be home before midnight. Anything after that would be too risky.

"Drinking is a guilty pleasure of mine. Sometimes not even pleasure." He grimaced at his two empty wine glasses. "There is so little to do here. Why don't we sneak away? This time I'll show you my absolute favourite place. Tonight is the last night of the ball, and it'd be a pity if you didn't get to see it. What do you say?"

Naturally, she agreed. She could see Lord Shion staring at her from afar, though he kept his distance. His ranking probably wasn't high enough for him to approach Romeo as and when he wanted – he was the son of a viscount, wasn't he? That was several ranks below Romeo. Honestly, she thought the peerage system was outdated and ridiculous, but it was something the nobles strictly adhered to.

"Come with me." Romeo set the two glasses on the tray of a passing waiter and she followed him out of the ballroom. She wondered if he would show her the floors they missed the previous time, but instead, he took her through the first floor, going deeper into the heart of the palace. The corridors were devoid of people, even the servants, and the moonlight and the pale marble pillars and the rich, blood-red carpet gave the entire palace an almost _eerie_ feeling. She couldn't help but shiver.

"Walking alone through the palace at night must be unnerving. It's so big," she said as they walked past an open window. The shadows that stretched from their bodies looked ominous. He glanced at her, a small smile on his face, and she wondered what he was thinking. She wondered what he thought of _her_.

"It's usually not so bad," he answered. "There's always a team of servants awake at any time of the day, and those who are working at night will ensure that the lights remain lit. But in the spirit of celebration, my father has given the servants who are not working in the ballroom the night off."

"Why do you need servants to be awake around the clock, though?" she asked. "It's not as though you would need them at night."

"Well, the palace is huge. And though we have guards patrolling the compound at night, it would be safer if there were people indoors who were awake, isn't it?" he answered. "They sleep in shifts, so it's not as if they don't get to rest."

"I see." She paused. "Even so, that doesn't change the fact that these hallways are quite unsettling." She looked around again and felt a chill run down her spine. The palace looked almost haunted in comparison to the homely summer cottage her family once owned. She missed that little cottage, though she didn't know if it was still standing or if it even belonged to her family anymore.

"It's better than my previous home for sure." He shrugged. She perked up at the mention of his past, but he said nothing else and she decided it would not be wise to probe further. Still, she was curious about where his previous house was. If he mentioned which state he used to live in, then she would be able to figure out which family he was from before becoming the prince.

Everyone knew he was adopted. People talked about it for weeks when the news broke – even her stepfamily gossiped freely in front of her, wondering where he had come from. The king did not announce his previous family name, though he confirmed that his adopted son was of noble blood. It was a mystery. Her step-family only addressed him as His Highness back then, so she hadn't known his name.

They reached the end of the passageway, and she saw it open up into the palace grounds. He ducked through the archway and she gathered up her skirt, stepping carefully onto the grass outside. She held out her hand for him, and with a small smile, he took it, guiding her across the lawn. The moonlight provided some illumination, and she could make out the vague shapes of buildings and trees in the distance. "Where are we headed?" she asked.

"You'll know when we get there," he told her, and he remained tight-lipped even when she gently probed for more information, so she fell silent, her mind whirring with thoughts and possibilities. Would he show her another flower garden? She recalled the beauty of the roses from the first night and tried to guess what other things the royal family might have in the palace grounds, but she had no clue.

They didn't have to walk for long. Soon enough, she realised they were headed towards one of the buildings she noticed in the moonlight, a long building with a low roof and an open door. As they approached, she could smell something that made her wrinkle her nose – the stench of animal sweat. Stables? That was the first thing which came to mind, and she glanced at Romeo, whose pace had quickened slightly.

Maybe he was taking her to see his horses. But was that anything special? He said he would bring her to see his favourite place, and to be honest, she had expected something a little…different. "I'd like you to meet a dear friend," he spoke, as though he was responding to her thoughts. She jumped, startled by the sudden statement. "She is one of the only creatures in the world that I believe I can trust. And she is also _very_ protective of me." He shot her a knowing grin.

"Oh? Would she be jealous then, to see that you are spending time with another lady?" she teased. He laughed, and his grip on her hand tightened. "I've never been very good with animals, however," she added with a frown, her tone becoming cautious. "Anything bigger than cats and dogs intimidates me."

When she was little, she witnessed a terrible accident where a man got trampled to death by a runaway horse, and ever since then, she was never fond of horses. She knew they would not hurt a person if they were properly taken care of and not set loose like that berserk stallion was, but she couldn't help but feel irrationally afraid when a horse drew too close to her. Carriages were fine. Riding a horse was not.

"Don't fret, she's very good-natured. Rather mild actually, and perfect with children. Just a little too protective when it comes to me." He stepped through the open doors of the stable, tugging her hand as she remained outside, hesitant. "She won't bite if you don't bite her first," he added, and she managed a smile.

Doing as he wished, she stepped inside the stables, the musky scent of the animals getting stronger as they walked in. The stables were as dark as the grounds outside, and she could barely see the outlines of the individual stalls and the moving shapes that ought to be the horses. A few of them whinnied when she went past, and she flinched away from those that came too close, their noses sticking out of the stalls.

He was headed to the very back of the stables, and she tore her eyes away from her surroundings, focusing on what was ahead of her. He ignored all the other horses as they walked, and she made sure to stare only at him – her heart was thudding in her chest. She honestly wasn't fond of horses. Whenever she saw one she'd think of the bruised and battered body she saw, blood dripping from its mouth while the stallion was restrained. Shuddering, she pulled her hand away so she could wipe it against her dress, and he glanced at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, then realised he probably couldn't see her in the darkness and voiced her agreement, her voice trembling slightly. There was a pause, then he exhaled and carried on walking.

"There, her name is Frost. She's the first horse I ever owned – she was a gift from my father to welcome me into the royal family. We've been through a lot together." They reached the stall, and the horse seemed pleased to see him. Miku watched as he reached towards the mare's forehead, stroking between its eyes. It neighed, swishing its tail – she could see better here since the moonlight shone through a small crack in the ceiling, sending a silvery ray of light down towards them.

It was still difficult to make out too many details, but what she noticed was that the mare appeared to be pure white, with piercing blue eyes that looked almost…wise. It was strange because she didn't think horses were capable of sentient thought, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the mare was sizing her up. It stared at her, then exhaled, its long feathery eyelashes lowering. He continued to pet it.

"Would you like to ride on her?" he suddenly asked, much to her – mostly unpleasant – surprise. "I promise she'll be gentle," he added, as though sensing her readiness to bolt. She swallowed and looked at the horse. Frost stared back at her with something that looked almost like distaste on its face. But horses couldn't feel distaste, right? Either way, she didn't want to go anywhere near it.

"I'd rather not," she answered, forcing herself to smile. The mare snorted, laying its ears flat against its skull. Miku had no idea why the horse seemed so antagonistic. It wasn't like she had done anything to hurt its beloved master, so why did it look at her as though she was some kind of pest? He sighed, and maybe he could sense the tension in the air because, after a few parting words and several more strokes, he turned and left the stall, taking Miku with him.

She did not look back as she left, relieved to be away from the mare. As soon as she was out in the palace grounds, she took in a deep breath, glad that the stench of animal sweat was no longer clogging her nostrils. He glanced at her, though she couldn't see his expression – he was facing away from the moonlight, and his figure was shrouded in shadow. "You seriously dislike horses, don't you?" he observed.

"I saw a man get trampled to death by a horse once," she confessed. "And ever since then, I've not been able to look at a horse without thinking about it." She glanced over her shoulder as she spoke – the scent of hay and animals wafted out of the stable and clung to her skin. She wanted to go home and scrub herself clean. "I don't _hate_ horses, I just don't get along too well with them. They always look like they're up to no good."

"You're overthinking," he replied, though there was a teasing lilt to his voice. She was surprised he didn't sound more reproachful, given that he appeared to be a horse lover. "Horses are not the ill-tempered beasts you seem to think they are. Frost truly is gentle, but she has the unfortunate tendency to look down on those who are afraid of her. Animals can sense fear, you know." His hand reached out to her then, and she froze when she felt his fingers brush gently against her cheek.

"I hope you can learn to get along with Frost," he murmured, his voice becoming lower and more sensuous. "If you're living with me, you'll need to get used to her."

"Living with you?" she echoed. "I still haven't agreed to move to the palace, you know – though you certainly are relentless in your attempts to sway me." She laughed, stepping away from his hand, and he let it drop back to his side.

She had the feeling that he was smirking, though it was impossible to see his face. Was he flirting with her? She didn't know since she was inexperienced in such things, but he certainly wasn't talking to her the way he spoke to other women.

"We'll see about that," he hummed, more to himself than to her. She frowned, about to ask him what he meant, but he turned away and began to walk back to the palace. She hurried to keep up, not wanting to be left alone near the stables. He didn't slow down for her this time, and she wondered why he was in such a hurry.

She finally managed to catch up with him at the ballroom, where he stood waiting at the doorway. The servants who stood on either side of the closed doors bowed towards him. "Your Highness," they murmured, casting her sideways glances as they spoke. She inhaled, brushing her skirt down and patting her hair to ensure it was still neat. He acknowledged them with a nod, giving her a quick once over as she walked up beside him, and the servants opened the doors for them.

The ballroom buzzed with talk, dance and music. The orchestra was playing another familiar piece now, one she was fond of because her mother used to play it on the piano – as she listened to the sounds of violins and strings, she felt herself swaying a little, following the rhythm. Romeo had ducked into the crowd once the doors opened, so she was left to her own devices, wandering around the fringes of the ballroom. She didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment.

"Lady Kamui! I've been searching for you all night." A familiar, cheerful voice rang out from some distance away, and she froze – she hoped it wasn't who she thought it was, but then she saw Lord Shion weaving through the crowd, a giant smile on his face. His mask was slipping off, but he didn't seem to care. There was a glass of half-drunk wine in his hand and she thought he looked tipsy.

"Lord Shion." She curtseyed and greeted him, though inwardly she groaned – she would have preferred not to speak to him given what she knew of his situation. But he had already spotted her, so there was no point in trying to escape. Anyway, he wasn't a bad person, just inconvenient to have around. Hopefully, things would go smoothly and she could get away without embarrassing him.

"Would you like to dance, Lady Kamui?" Now that he was standing beside her she could hear him slurring a bit. She knew tipsy people were unpredictable – Lucinda was a prime example – so she agreed, not wanting him to kick up a fuss.

Looking delighted, he passed his wine glass to another nobleman, who confusedly took it, then led her to the dance floor. She comforted herself with the fact that the music playing was pleasant – at least she might enjoy herself while dancing.

It wasn't too bad, actually. Lord Shion was a good dancer, though it seemed like he had to concentrate a fair bit to avoid stumbling over his feet. She was impressed that he was able to dance at all – if she didn't open her eyes, she could pretend that the man she was dancing with _wasn't_ someone who had called off his engagement to her stepsister because of her. She felt no pity for Anastasia, but she did pity this poor man who had no idea that his efforts would culminate in nothing.

They danced together for at least another three pieces. By then she was starting to tire – throughout the whole time they were dancing, they said nothing to each other, though the young lord seemed to grow increasingly sober with each piece. She was uncomfortable with the thought of him being sober because that meant he would be capable of serious discussion, and she would prefer not to talk to him for now.

"Shall we take a break, Lady Kamui?" His voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked at him – Lord Shion was studying her, and there was concern on his face. Suddenly she noticed the ache in her calves and realised that her fingers were trembling a little. Lord Shion had adjusted his mask halfway through the second piece, but she had seen enough to guess what he looked like underneath it – an honest and open man with a kind smile and gentle eyes.

He was attractive, but he wasn't suitable for her. Under any other circumstances she might have been pleased to know he was fond of her, but unfortunately, there was only one man on her mind, and it wasn't him. Lord Shion led her to the side of the ballroom, against one of the ornate white pillars holding up the ceiling. She resisted the urge to slump against the cool marble, sudden tiredness sweeping through her – whenever she danced, she couldn't feel the true extent of her exhaustion until she completely stopped moving. If she was at home, she would have just collapsed.

However, she was still in public and she knew she had to remain graceful despite the soreness in her arms and legs. "That was tiring, but fun," she offered, noticing the awkward silence between them and how the young lord kept glancing away from her, not daring to stare for too long.

"Indeed. I would like to dance with you more, if possible," he replied, a small smile on his face. He was noticeably taller than her even with her glass heels on, and she had to tilt her face up to look at him when he spoke. "I know we've just met, Lady Kamui," he said, sounding earnest, and she tensed – she had a strong suspicion that this would be the proposal she had been reluctantly anticipating all night.

"But I feel like we understand each other on a deeper level. I'm not sure if you think the same way, but it would be wonderful if you did." He reached for her hands, and they dwarfed hers – she didn't dare to pull away, overwhelmed by his intensity. "My mother, she too is fond of you – in fact, she was the one who encouraged me to speak to you about this tonight," he continued, a hopeful look on his face.

"Speak to me about what, exactly?" she answered, leaning just a little away from him – his fervour was too much for her. The lord looked puzzled for a moment, almost as if he didn't understand what she was saying, but then realisation dawned on his face and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. She swallowed.

Surely there was no need for him to be this prepared. "Would you like to become my fiancée?" he asked, slowly opening the box to present its contents to her. She stared. There was a stunning crystal pendant sparkling in the middle of the box. She had guessed there would be something gorgeous in there, but she hadn't expected this – it looked terribly precious, and she had no idea what to say.

"This belonged to my mother. She received it from my father when they first got married, and she told me to present it to the girl I wish to make my wife." Lord Shion was still speaking in that earnest manner. "I hope you would consider this gift."

"I…I don't know what to say," she answered. Of course, she ought to just turn him down right now, seeing how he wouldn't help with her plan, but she could not bring herself to crush him so cruelly when he was being so sincere. Everyone was staring at them, and she felt incredibly self-conscious as the murmurs started, rumours which would no doubt make their way to her stepfamily by tomorrow morning.

"I appreciate your gift, Lord Shion. But…" She hesitated. What should she say? That she was waiting for Romeo to propose? No, she couldn't possibly tell him that – it made her sound so callous. And the audience would no doubt think poorly of her.

"But I'm afraid she cannot accept because she's already promised to another." She heard a smooth voice speak over her stuttering, and the crowd turned to face the newcomer. Romeo himself was moving towards them, and his expression was nothing but serious – for once, there was no amusement on his face.

"Promised to another?" Lord Shion echoed, looking uncertain. Romeo reached them, and though he was slightly shorter than Lord Shion, the nobleman still took a step back from him. Lord Shion looked from him to her, then back again. She could see the sadness and confusion in his expression. "I thought you were looking for someone to marry at the ball, Lady Kamui?" he asked.

A puzzled look flitted across Romeo's face at the name, but Miku ignored him for the time being, focusing on Lord Shion instead and how betrayed he sounded. "I am, but…" Her voice trailed away and she glanced at Romeo, a silent, desperate plea for help. He smiled and nodded, indicating that she should continue.

She just hoped that he would play along with whatever story she concocted. "You see, I received a proposal from another nobleman just earlier tonight, and I already said yes," she spoke carefully. "So, I am afraid I cannot accept your proposal."

She ducked her head so that she wouldn't have to see his face, but she could hear him loud and clear. "And who is this man?" Lord Shion asked. He still sounded so disappointed. Miku struggled for an answer – suddenly, she couldn't remember the name of any single nobleman Romeo had introduced before other than Utatane Piko, and she doubted the viscount would be happy if she made use of his name.

"Me. I'm the one who proposed to her." Romeo stepped between her and Lord Shion, addressing the taller man directly. The crowd hushed, mostly in excitement though Lord Shion seemed to grow sullen at the announcement. He smiled and reached for her hand, bringing it towards him and brushing his lips against her skin. "My apologies for that, Lord Shion. I'm sure you can find someone else."

"I thank you for your kind wishes, Your Highness," Lord Shion muttered before he turned away, disappearing into the crowd. He was gone before she could even blink. Now, she was left with Romeo, who had just publicly announced that they were engaged. She was starting to feel uncomfortable with all the stares and attention she was receiving. Romeo pulled her towards him, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

"I thought about it. This would be the easiest way to rescue you from Lord Shion's advances. After all, he doesn't fit the criteria you have for your potential husband, does he?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. She nodded, still feeling a little guilty about the dejected look on the young lord's face. "But before you say this was all just a farce, I'll let you know I truly did spend time thinking over whether or not I should propose to you, and here are the results of my pondering."

He pulled out a velvet box of his own, and she looked at it, as did everyone else. When he opened the box, she gasped at the ring it held – a platinum band with a single brilliant ruby in the middle. There were two tiny diamonds on either side of the ruby, and she did not doubt that it cost a pretty penny. "What…where did you get this?" She could barely speak. He gave her a gloating grin.

"When I left you alone just now. I knew Lord Shion would distract you for some time so I used the chance to go back to my room and retrieve this box." The grin on his face softened into a warm smile. "So, I'd just like to ask you this, Cinderella – will you be my fiancée?" As he spoke, he knelt on one knee, and she didn't know whether to laugh or to swoon at his theatrics. She tried to ignore the crowd as they whispered around them, focusing on Romeo instead. His smile was sweet, genuine for once, and she didn't know why he suddenly changed his mind but she was glad that he did.

Before she could answer though, she heard the town's clock tower begin to toll – the bell only rang twice a day, twelve times at noon and twelve times at midnight. She panicked – she had to be home before her stepfamily woke up, and as the first toll faded into the second, she backed away from him and hitched her skirt up, running away from the ballroom. Shouts and yelling followed her but she didn't turn or stop, concentrating on running away as quickly as she could.

As she ran, one of her shoes slipped off but she didn't bother to stop and pick it up. Instead, she reached down and took off the other shoe, holding it tightly as she ran barefoot. She could get home in maybe ten minutes or less if she kept running. The other shoe was left on the carpeted staircase that led down from the front doors to the main gardens. She hoped that Romeo would be able to find her even with just that one shoe – she hoped he knew that her hasty departure wasn't a rejection of his proposal.

Len ran out of the front doors just in time to see the girl fleeing down the main road. He probably wouldn't be able to catch up by now, so he exhaled, looking around at the servants who had accompanied him on his chase. Something sparkled at him from below, catching his eye – he glanced down and saw a familiar glass shoe. A slow smile crossed his face as he made the connection to her fairy tale name.

"All right, Cinderella," he breathed as the servants reached him, yelling at each other about finding the girl. "If this is what you want, then I'll play your game."


	10. Chapter 10

When Miku got home, her hair messy, the hem of her dress flecked with dirt, still clutching her glass shoe in one hand, she found the manor as silent as she left it.

She exhaled in relief. Glancing at the shoe, she hurried to her attic room, intending to change out of the dress and hide the shoe before her stepfamily woke up. She held her breath as she climbed the stairs, hoping they wouldn't suddenly awaken.

Once she was in her room, she quickly took her dress off, impatiently unhooking every clasp and shimmying out of the heavy mass. Now that it was off her shoulders, she felt so _free_ – she hadn't realised just how stifling the dress was. It was still lovely though. She'd make sure to wash the dirt away when she had time.

Flinging the closet door open, she stuffed the dress inside it before she stepped on her stool, placing the single glass shoe back where it belonged. Taking her servant outfit from the bed where she left it, she tugged it on, afraid that her stepsisters would wake up at any moment. Fingers flicking from button to button, she smoothed the dress down as best as she could then reached up to comb her fingers through her hair.

At that moment, a familiar screamed pierced the silence.

She groaned. Lucinda was awake. She made her way back to the second floor, tying her hair up into a bun as she did so. She knocked on Lucinda's door, trying to take in deep breaths to slow her panting. A shrill voice told her to come in.

In hindsight, maybe she should have just told Romeo yes and stayed at the ball. After all, her stepfamily couldn't touch her if she was his fiancée, right? But when she heard the clock tower toll the first thing that came to mind was how much _trouble_ she'd be in if she wasn't home before her stepfamily woke up. Now all she could do was hope that he managed to find her. She was certain he would, though.

Lucinda was sitting up in bed, clutching her blanket. She looked livid, and that was strangely intimidating given the giant red, pulsing pimples on her face. "I can't believe you let me sleep!" she screeched. "I wanted to go to the ball! I would have covered these foul things up with powder and gone to the ball so I could speak to the man who wishes to marry me! But you just allowed me to sleep all night!"

"You seemed tired, so I thought it was best if you rested," she replied, trying to calm down the brat. The commotion surely must have woken up the other two, but at least she was back in the manor and in her drab servant garb. "I didn't dare to wake you up…after all, before you went to sleep you said you'd stay at the manor to make Anastasia regret her actions. I assumed you wanted to stay in bed –"

"You believed _that_? I didn't know anyone would be so stupid!" Lucinda cut in, and this time Miku almost rolled her eyes. The insult was rich, coming from her. Before she could retort, however, Lucinda's door was flung open. Anastasia stood there, a decidedly black look on her face.

"Can't you shut up for just five seconds?" she addressed her younger sister, who folded her arms across her chest and looked away, sniffing disdainfully. "And you, what did you put in my drink? Why did I sleep for so long?" she snapped at Miku, her expression shifting from distaste to suspicion. Miku just stared blankly back at her stepsister, pretending she had no idea what Anastasia was talking about.

"What I gave you was a nourishing herbal brew, no more and no less. It's meant to help you relax. I told you that much when you drank it." Anastasia narrowed her eyes, but when she next opened her mouth her words made Miku's blood run cold.

"Why are you so clean?" she asked, her tone accusatory. Lucinda looked up at her as well, her gaze roaming curiously over Miku. "You were filthy this morning. And now you're not. How do you explain that?" Miku's mind raced, trying to come up with a believable excuse, one that didn't involve admitting that she took a bath.

Before she could come up with something, Lucinda rose from her bed, sniffing the air. "You smell like my favourite lavender bath salts!" she gasped, seizing Miku's wrist. She attempted to shake the younger girl off, but Lucinda held fast. "You sat in my clean bathtub with your dirty skin and used _my_ bath salts!"

Miku was surprised that Lucinda was capable of drawing such a logical conclusion.

"How dare you take advantage of us!" Anastasia seethed, grabbing her arm from behind. She began dragging Miku out of the room, and she tried to resist as much as she could – she knew what was going to happen, and she didn't like it. "You deserve to be left in the cellar for three days without food." Anastasia sneered while Lucinda pushed her from behind, making it difficult for Miku to remain in place. "Don't blame us for this. _You_ crossed the line."

"What, so I can't even take a bath?" she demanded, her temper flaring – she was already going to end up in the cellar, so nothing she did now could make her punishment worse. "It's just a bath. I didn't even use that much of the bath salts, Lucinda would never have noticed. You want to deprive me of something as simple as a bath? Don't forget who's the actual heiress to the Hatsune family name. When your mother dies, you're not going to get _anything_." Anastasia froze, her fingers digging so tightly into Miku's arm that it stung. But it was a satisfying kind of pain.

What Miku said was true, and they all knew it. Because they did not have the blood of a Hatsune, they were unable to inherit the Hatsune family's titles and fortune. It would simply die with the duchess, and everything they had would be returned to the crown.

"I'll throw you in the cellar for a week, you bitch," Anastasia whispered. "Don't ever let me see your face again. You disgust me." With renewed vigour, the stepsisters pulled her down the stairs to the kitchen, ignoring her protests and struggles until they were in front of the cellar. Knowing she couldn't physically overcome them both, she retreated into her mind, thinking about all the ways she could get revenge.

She knew they were serious about keeping her in the cellar for a week. The longest she had gone without food was three days, but that had been a few years ago. Normally starving her was an empty threat, but Anastasia sounded angry enough to follow through this time. She was a little worried, but there wasn't much she could do now.

Her stepmother was in the kitchen. Miku shot the woman a pleading look, hoping she might intervene for once, but the older woman just stared at her, and there was something almost apologetic in her eyes.

Then Anastasia took the key and, opening the door, they shoved her into the cellar. It was a dark place, musty and claustrophobic – she fell down the stairs but managed to catch herself, feeling her way through the darkness to her usual spot in a corner of the cellar. There were barrels and crates everywhere, but she ignored them, folding herself into the corner and wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I hope you die in there," Anastasia said, her voice floating into the cellar. Miku just closed her eyes. She had heard all kinds of threats before, and one more didn't matter. They might neglect her and try to punish her but they wouldn't let her die or truly starve, because without her they had no way to access her family's fortune.

The peerage system dictated that only those who shared the blood of a family could inherit its titles and wealth. Her stepmother married her father, but Anastasia and Lucinda were from a previous marriage and had no legal claim to her family's rights. If it were not for this law, she'd probably have been cast out of the manor a long time ago, so she supposed that the outdated, stuffy system had its own merits.

She heard the sounds of her stepfamily leaving the kitchen. She exhaled, opening her eyes – it was almost the same as when they were closed. Leaning her chin on her knees, she huddled against the crates surrounding her, paying little attention to the way the wooden edges jabbed into her back. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Len suppressed a yawn. It was too early in the morning to be up and about, but he wanted to find Cinderella as quickly as he could. He glanced down at the satchel he slung around his torso, where he had kept her glass shoe.

This felt like a joke or a fantastical dream. Who would have thought that he'd end up chasing a girl who ran away from his ball, leaving behind nothing but a shoe?

"That's the Hatsune manor, Your Highness," Gumo said, tilting his head to the left. His butler always accompanied him on excursions out of the palace, much to Len's chagrin. Sometimes he'd like to be alone, but Gumo had insisted on following him today – probably out of curiosity since he'd never seen Cinderella before.

The Hatsune manor looked like any other noble house, protected by an imposing iron gate. It reeked of confinement. He couldn't imagine that girl being happy here. Maybe that was why she was so desperate to get married.

Which reminded him. He had to ask her for her name. Why did Shion Kaito refer to her as Lady Kamui? She wasn't a Kamui. It was a bit silly – if she had to lie, wouldn't it make sense to pick a less distinctive family name?

He dismounted from Frost, and his butler followed suit. "Do you need me to follow you, Your Highness?" Gumo asked. Len idly wondered what Gumo did with all his free time – he worked considerably less than Gumi since Len preferred to do most things on his own. Following Len was probably one of Gumo's few pleasures in life. Maybe he ought to start ordering his butler around more often.

"No, I'll do this myself," he answered, patting his mare's flank. "Take care of Frost for me." Gumo nodded and pulled Frost over to stand beside his horse while Len walked up to the gates, tipping his head back to look at the sharp tips of the ornate black metal. The polished bars gleamed in the sunlight. Reaching out, he pushed the gates and realised they were unlocked, so he let himself into the gardens.

The manor was silent, all the windows covered by curtains. Carefully, he made his way up the path to the dwelling, feeling strangely uneasy. He wasn't sure why but there was something almost ominous about this place.

Upon reaching the front door, he gripped the brass knocker – it was shaped like a wolf, he noted – and knocked thrice. The sound reverberated throughout the manor and garden – if anyone was home, they'd have heard it. A moment later, the door opened and there stood a brunette with brown eyes, a haughty look on her face. The condescension morphed into surprise when she noticed him.

"Prince Romeo!" she exclaimed, immediately sweeping into a low curtsey. He nodded in acknowledgement, his lip curling slightly at the sound of his nickname, but he decided to let it pass. "To what do we owe such an honour?" she asked.

This was probably Shion Kaito's ex-fiancée. He hadn't witnessed it himself but he heard about how the young lord had annulled their engagement on the second night of his ball. He could see why. She dimmed in comparison to Cinderella.

There was something about her that set him on edge. He couldn't place a finger on why exactly, but there was something almost fox-like about her demeanour and he trusted his instincts. "I'm looking for someone," he answered, taking a step inside the manor – the girl moved aside so he could enter, staring curiously at him.

He looked at his surroundings as he walked into the parlour. It was predictable and bland – cream wallpaper, paintings and vases filled with wildflowers. He could sense this was a family who was struggling a little with money – the décor was nothing like what he'd expect from one of the Great Houses. It was too understated, too plain.

Granted, the Hatsunes were still much wealthier than the average peasant, but it was common knowledge that they were considerably less influential than they used to be. "May I ask who you are searching for?" The girl was following him, and her voice was just _annoying_ for some reason. He was tempted to tell her that it was none of her business, but he held his tongue. She could be useful to him.

"A girl with teal hair," he said. She didn't answer, and he glanced at her, wondering if she would ask something else – there was a frown on her face. She said nothing as he entered the front parlour, where two other women were sitting on an elegant sofa, talking animatedly. Both of them abruptly stopped at the sight of him, and he looked at each of them, trying to guess who they were.

The one closer to him had long red hair and the worst case of acne he'd ever seen. She must be the younger sister of the brunette. He vaguely recalled her introducing herself to him at the ball, but he couldn't remember her name. The other woman looked older, and she blinked at him, her lips slightly parted, confusion on her face.

That was likely the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, the commoner who had married into the Hatsune family. Unlike her daughters, she had green eyes that reminded him of Cinderella's. He caught himself staring and he shook himself, clearing his throat. "I'm looking for someone with teal hair. She lives here, doesn't she?" he asked.

The two women exchanged a look. "Good morning, Your Highness." They rose from their seats, both curtseying deeply. "There is no such person in our household, unfortunately," the younger one simpered, batting her eyelashes at him. He ignored the girl, focusing on the duchess instead – she seemed uncomfortable, averting her gaze when he looked at her. He knew then that the other two were lying.

"Is that true, Duchess?" he addressed her, and the younger girl backed away, her gaze flitting between him and her older sister behind him. "Is there no such person?" he added. The woman continued to maintain her silence, and the tension was so thick he could have cut it with a knife – the sisters moved over to stand with the duchess in a show of support, but he simply waited for her to say something.

Finally, she sighed. "Come with me," she said, turning away from him. The sisters tugged at her sleeves, silently protesting, but she shook them off and walked into what appeared to be the kitchen. He followed, watching as she headed to a small door at the back of the kitchen. The duchess picked up a key hanging on a hook beside the door and unlocked it, the thick wood groaning as it shifted away from the frame. "The girl you're looking for is inside the cellar," the duchess said. "My only request is that if you take her, please bring her far, far away from this place."

He was startled by the unexpected statement, but he nodded. That was what he intended to do, anyway. Cautiously he stepped inside the cellar, the musty air making his nose wrinkle. The light from the kitchen barely lit the space beyond, revealing a series of worn stone steps that led down into the darkness.

He made his way down the stairs, eventually having to reach out with his hands to feel his way around. Around ten steps later, he felt his foot touch solid ground and his searching fingers found the edge of a hard object – it felt like a crate of some sort. He exhaled, relieved that he didn't fall down the stairs. Then he sensed movement.

Instantly his hand darted towards the dagger hidden in his coat. "Hello?" he called, wondering if he would receive a reply. A second later he felt something smooth and round hit and bounce off him, and he stepped back into what felt like a stack of barrels – the barrels crashed down around him, and he raised his arms to shield himself. "Who are you?" he hissed, his patience thinning.

"Who are _you_?" a girl parroted his words, and he stilled – her voice was familiar. It made him think of burning green eyes and a coy smile, and at once he knew it was the girl he had come for. "I'm not the one who barged into someone else's personal space and started knocking things over. If you're a new servant, stop pestering me – I've already told Anastasia I'm not afraid of anything you might do. Leave before I throw another apple at you."

"I'm not a servant," he answered, wondering if he should feel insulted or amused. "I believe we met at the ball last night. And the night before. And the night before that. Would you happen to know of a girl named Cinderella?"

The mysterious voice didn't respond, and he carried on. "You see, last night she left a glass shoe behind when she ran away from me. The Duchess Hatsune told me that the girl I was looking for was down here, so could it possibly be… _you_? Or should I expect another apple coming my way?"

The apple threat was quite entertaining. He should start using it on his father.

"And why are you looking for Cinderella? If she ran away, then perhaps she wishes to avoid you?" The girl's voice was playful now, an abrupt change from the sullen annoyance he heard just moments ago. "Not all ladies like a persistent admirer, you know. Some of them prefer a man who is dark and quiet…a little like this cellar."

"But _she_ told me she wanted someone with a sense of humour, blond hair and blue eyes," he answered, his lips curving into a smile. He didn't mind playing with her for a while longer. Though he had to wonder why she was even locked down here in the first place – also, why did the younger sister say that this girl didn't exist?

He thought of the older girl's shifty eyes and his smile turned into a frown.

"Are you that person then?" she whispered, and he felt something soft brush his cheek. He stiffened, recognising the sensation – the touch of a girl's fingers, tracing his jaw, his cheekbones. "You came for me," she breathed, almost as if in wonder. Then she suddenly grabbed his shoulder. "Take me away from here. Please."

"If that's what you wish," he said. She slid her hand down his arm and her slender fingers intertwined with his. They went up the stairs, and he glanced back as they stepped into the kitchen, wondering if he'd finally get to see her face.

The first thing he saw was long teal hair. His gaze settled on her face and he saw a familiar pair of green eyes, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the light. She was startlingly beautiful, her features so delicate that they bordered on ethereal. Her skin was smudged with dirt, but that didn't make her look any less lovely. It was almost distracting. Little wonder that Shion Kaito fell for her within one night.

His gaze dropped to her outfit, and he noted that she was wearing a dull dress that was just as filthy as the rest of her. He recalled the dresses she had worn to the ball and wondered where she had left them. Well, at least she wasn't unattractive. If he had to marry her out of duty, then it was good that she was pleasant to look at.

The duchess was still in the kitchen, waiting for them. He didn't miss the way the girl's eyes narrowed at her, or how her lips dipped downwards at the sight of the woman. But she didn't say a word to her, turning to look at him instead.

"So, you _are_ Cinderella, correct?" he asked when she still didn't speak, just eyeing him like she wasn't quite sure who he was. Not that he doubted her identity for even a second, but the silence was becoming stifling and neither woman seemed to want to break it. The duchess was still quietly watching them, and it made his skin prickle.

"Could I be anyone else?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. If there was any doubt at all who she was, it was gone now – no one else dared to take that kind of casual tone with him. "You proposed to me just last night – I would be disappointed if you already forgot what I looked like," she added, her lips tilting upwards.

"How could I possibly forget?" he answered, reaching out to tuck some of her teal hair behind her ear. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. Just in case there _does_ happen to be another teal haired girl hiding in this city." Her smile widened, and he let his hand linger by her face for just a second longer than necessary before dropping it back to his side. "Can I take it that you accept my proposal, then?"

She met his gaze squarely. "Yes. I do," she answered, and he exhaled, knowing that there was no way he could change his mind now, even if he wanted to.

"Then let's go home." He glanced at the duchess, wondering if she had anything to add – Cinderella was supposedly her niece, after all. Though he had his doubts about that. The duchess met his gaze, but her expression was unreadable.

Cinderella beamed. "Yes, please," she chirped, sounding the happiest he had ever heard her. She followed him out of the kitchen, and not once did she turn back to look at the duchess.


	11. Chapter 11

Gumo was waiting patiently for them. Frost's ears pricked up when she heard them coming, his mystery girl still clinging onto his arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

He was full of questions. Why was she in the cellar? What was her real relationship with the Hatsune family? And what was her name? But she didn't look like she was in a state to answer any of those questions now. He glanced at her, covered head-to-toe with dirt. He'd get the servants to run a bath for her when they were home.

"Is this her?" Gumo asked, turning around when Frost whinnied. His butler seemed surprised, which Len supposed was understandable. The girl's grip on him tightened and he looked at her – her expression was one of curiosity rather than fear.

"Yes. This is Cinderella. Which reminds me." He opened his satchel, revealing her glass shoe wrapped in a handkerchief. "I believe this belongs to you."

She didn't say anything for a moment, just staring at the shoe. Then she exhaled. "I left the other shoe inside the attic. I don't want to go back inside to take it."

"Would you like me to help you retrieve your belongings?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'll keep this half as a reminder. I'll come back for my things when…" Her voice trailed off, and she turned to look back at the manor. "When things have settled down," she finally said. He nodded.

Gumo was still watching them, a quizzical look on his face. He couldn't quite seem to wrap his head around the fact that this girl was Len's fiancée. Len cleared his throat, and his butler immediately jumped into action, untethering the horses.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cinderella." Gumo led Frost over to Len, coming to a stop before the girl. He bowed towards her and she stepped back, flustered – Len figured she was unused to having people greet her in this manner. He had taken a while to get accustomed to it as well, though it was a regular occurrence now.

"Thank you," she said. "I apologise for the filth. It was a complicated situation." She met his gaze and Len found his lips curving up – well, that was _one_ way to put it.

"Oh, please don't apologise, you did nothing wrong," Gumo hastily replied. "I'm only a butler, so there's no need to explain anything to me. Once we return to the palace I will instruct the servants to run a warm bath so you can clean up."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Cinderella smiled, and despite the grime, she was lovely to look at. Gumo paused for a moment before he smiled back and busied himself with preparing his horse. Len reached for Frost, then remembered what Cinderella said about her fear of horses and turned towards her, wondering if she would be okay. The girl stared back at him with a look of trepidation on her face.

"Must I?" she asked. She obviously didn't want to – Frost snorted in her direction and she flinched back, almost letting go of his arm. "I could walk to the palace…"

"No, you will not do that. Don't be ridiculous." Len exchanged a look with Gumo. "How about this? You can ride with Gumo. Frost tends to go faster, and I'd rather not risk you falling off in terror. Would that be a better alternative?"

She nodded, though he could still see the nervousness on her face. "She is afraid of horses," he explained to Gumo, who was observing them curiously.

"I'm not exactly _afraid_ of horses," she muttered, averting her gaze. "They just remind me of a bad experience, so I prefer to avoid them. That's all."

"That's usually what we call being afraid, Cinderella." He looked at her and she met his gaze, tilting her head up. The fear on her face had been replaced by defiance, and he was surprised that his simple statement was able to provoke her like this.

Her attitude was certainly a breath of fresh air. "I am _not_ afraid," she repeated, though she still gave Frost a wary glance as she traipsed towards Gumo.

"Would you like to ride with me, then?" he asked, resting a hand on Frost's mane. Cinderella looked at him, then at Frost, then back to him.

"No." She turned away, and Gumo helped her onto his horse. Len just sighed and shook his head. Stubborn girl. She wasn't fooling anyone, though it was charming that she tried. He wondered how easy it would be to goad her into doing things.

Miku watched as Romeo got onto Frost in one fluid motion – she couldn't help but watch, silently impressed by his gracefulness. "I'll go back to the palace first," he said, holding the horse's reins. "Gumo, show her to my room once you're back. I'll get the servants to prepare the bath." Gumo nodded and Romeo gave her a knowing grin before Frost abruptly took off, galloping down the road.

She gaped at his shrinking figure, suddenly relieved that he suggested she ride with Gumo instead. She'd probably be screaming if she had decided to ride with him. Gumo climbed up behind her, and she tried to fix a smile on her face. When she looked down she could see the pavement beneath them, and it made her feel a little faint.

"Your name is Gumo, correct?" she asked, trying to distract herself. She assumed he was Romeo's butler but he had never actually introduced himself. She only knew his name because Romeo had called him that.

"Yes. Nakajima Gumo, at your service. I am His Highness' butler, and since you are his fiancée, I will serve you as well." He smiled at her, and she found herself relaxing – he had a gentle smile and vivid green eyes, and there was just something calming about him. "Do you have a preference for how you wish to be addressed?"

"Oh! Cinderella will do," she said, uncomfortable with the thought of anything else. She was reminded of the fact that once she married Romeo, she'd be considered royalty, and that meant…well, it meant _something_. She wondered what kind of duties a princess had.

"Very well. Please be careful, Cinderella – we'll be setting off now." Gumo pressed his legs against the horse's flank and the horse began to trot. Miku quickly held on to its mane, her stomach lurching. She was sitting aside the horse and she couldn't help but feel like she'd fall off at any moment. The swaying was not helping.

"If you lean on me you might feel more comfortable," Gumo said, and she listened to his suggestion, sliding down a little so that she was up against his chest. She felt bad about dirtying his white shirt, but when she voiced her concern he laughed it off and told her not to worry. "I'll just have it washed later. Besides, you're our princess – your comfort is more important than how clean my shirt is."

She grimaced when he said that. She didn't like the idea of inconveniencing others just to lead an easier life. She knew this was the norm for noble families, but she had served her stepfamily for six years and she knew how frustrating it could be to obey everything without question. "You don't have to feel obliged to do things for me."

"Hm? But you're the princess," Gumo replied. "It's not an obligation. I'm paid to serve you, after all." She glanced at him and saw that he was smiling. "It's truly an honour to be able to assist you. Please allow me to make myself useful."

She hesitated. "Aren't you busy enough helping the prince? I don't want to be an unnecessary burden. Nor do I wish to be anyone's mistress," she added.

As someone who longed to break free of the chains that held her down, she didn't think it was appropriate for her to make others do her bidding. She didn't want to end up like a second Lucinda. Gumo chuckled and she looked at him again, confused. There was something almost like awe in his green eyes.

"You're very thoughtful, Cinderella. You don't have to worry about His Highness – he likes to do things on his own. I only have to draw up his daily agenda and give it to him at the start of the day, so I have a great deal of free time on my hands. It'd please me to no end if you allowed me to help you acclimate to life in the palace, at least."

That sounded reasonable. "I think I'd like that. Thank you very much," she said. He nodded, and she cautiously leant against him – he was warm, and he smelled good. Like soap, with a hint of something floral. She felt herself blushing, unused to being in such proximity to someone of the opposite sex. This was very different from dancing.

He was handsome, though in a different way from Romeo – he was softer, more approachable. Romeo had a cold, regal kind of beauty that made him easier to gaze upon from afar. "How old are you?" she asked, trying to break the silence.

Talking to him had the benefit of distracting her from the ride. Whenever she looked down she felt dizzy, and she couldn't wait for this to be over. Thankfully the palace wasn't that far from the Hatsune manor. "I'm twenty-four. Three years older than His Highness," Gumo answered. "I've lived in the palace since I was born."

She blinked. That was a pretty long time. "You were around during the civil war?" she asked. She was young then, but she remembered her father mentioning that the former king had been overthrown by a few nobles, who then turned on each other to claim the right to the throne. The civil war had lasted for five years.

The current king ascended the throne one week after her father's first death anniversary. She remembered this because while the rest of the nation celebrated, she mourned her father. She bit her lip, trying not to think about those memories.

"Yes. Those were turbulent times." Gumo sighed. "We remained in the palace but its owner kept changing. Nobles continued dying, lusting for power. I'm glad it has passed." He regarded her curiously. "Did you study our civil war in school?"

Too late she remembered her fabricated history. "No, I didn't learn about it from school. My aunt sent my mother letters, which was where we got our information. But the situation has improved now, correct? My mother only felt safe sending me here because we heard that the turmoil is mostly over, and the dust has settled."

She was proud of her quick thinking. Gumo nodded. "That's right. After our king seized the throne, things have been relatively stable. I hope no one else will try to challenge him, but that is unlikely. There are few people with a claim as strong as His Majesty's since he is part of the Kamui family, one of the Four Great Houses."

"I see," she murmured. She paused, wondering if she could try to get information about Romeo out of Gumo – as his butler, he probably knew everything there was to know about him, right? "Gumo, could you tell me the prince's name?"

The butler exhaled. "I apologise, Cinderella. His Highness has given all the servants strict orders not to divulge his true identity to you. Something about tit for tat," he explained. She frowned. So, he still doubted that Cinderella was her real name.

He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make things any less annoying. "I understand. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?" Gumo gave her a questioning look. "I've agreed to marry him, but all I know about him is what he told me during the ball. There is not much one can learn over three nights," she said.

"That's true." He paused for a moment, then gave her another sweet smile. She lowered her gaze, trying not to let his smile get to her. It had been a while since anyone treated her so kindly. At the ball, people were polite to her, but there was a genuineness to Gumo that made her feel _seen_ , for lack of a better description.

"His Highness is difficult to approach and harder to understand. But he is not a bad man. He wrestles with feelings too difficult for him to unravel on his own, but he's fiercely independent and overly defensive." Gumo looked her in the eye, and his expression was completely serious. "I hope you can help him, Cinderella. In the three years I've served him, you're the first person I've seen who can make him _feel_."

"Me?" she asked, surprised. He nodded, a sigh escaping his lips – she felt the path begin to slope gently upwards and realised they were now very near the palace.

"His Highness has crafted the perfect public persona to protect himself. He takes his duties seriously, to the point of obsession. But when he talks to you, I don't see His Royal Highness, Crown Prince and the heir to the throne. I see a shadow of who he really is, the person behind the titles and the finery. It's a vulnerability he doesn't reveal to anyone besides those closest to him. Yet you can draw him out."

She didn't feel like she was doing anything special, but Gumo sounded so convinced that she decided it might be better to keep her thoughts to herself. "How do you want me to help him, though?" she asked. "I don't think there is much I can do."

"He has mourned long enough," the butler replied. "He locked his heart away and numbed himself to emotion. In his mind, the arrangement you share now is nothing more than a marriage of convenience. But perhaps he will grow to love you."

"You think too highly of me," she laughed. "He only showed interest in me because he wanted someone to talk to. He made it clear from the start that he didn't want a fiancée; even now, I'm very certain that he only proposed out of necessity."

"Likely so, but out of all the women present at the ball he still chose you, and that indicates something," Gumo said. She was unable to find the words to retort, so she stayed quiet, thinking his words over in her mind. Gumo cared deeply about his master, that much was obvious. She felt almost envious. A little guilty, too.

How would Gumo react if he knew of her true reasons for marrying Romeo? If he knew that she'd slip away from the marriage at the first available opportunity? Would he still think so highly of her? She didn't want to disappoint Gumo – he was a nice person, and she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like a normal human being. But she had her priorities to take care of.

She didn't want to get attached to anyone or anything. Her main goal was to claim her family's titles and fortune. Anastasia and Lucinda weren't the obstacles here – it would be her stepmother, who had equal claim to the inheritance since she married her father. She wasn't sure if being the princess would give her any extra rights; she had only wanted a legally-backed escape route. But she'd figure something out.

It would be easy if she could just tell the king her real identity. But that would raise a few questions. Everyone thought she was dead – how would she prove that she was speaking the truth? If she was unable to convince him, her actions would most likely be seen as treason, which was a crime punishable by death.

And even without this problem, she still didn't know enough about what her family was doing. She hadn't paid much attention to the family affairs when she was little, and by the time she began to care, her father had died and her stepmother was the one who controlled everything. Until she could find out more, she'd rather not make a move against her stepfamily. It was too risky to assume control of an estate that she knew little about – what if they were involved in some unsavoury business?

"We're here," Gumo suddenly said, and she blinked, realising that the horse had stopped and they were now outside the palace. Gumo dismounted first, then he turned and helped her off the horse – thankfully, the horse remained perfectly still and she managed to dismount with little difficulty. She exhaled in relief when her feet touched solid ground, silently promising never to go horse-riding ever again.

"As His Highness gave me orders to show you to his room once we've arrived, please follow me." Gumo maintained a respectable distance between the two of them as they walked through the grounds towards the palace, him staying slightly ahead of her. She looked around – it was the first time she was here during the day. The building exuded a quiet, serene elegance that was the exact opposite of the candlelit grandeur and opulence she saw the three nights she was here.

The interior was not much different from what she saw last night, though it was less eerie-looking now. Gumo led her up two flights of stairs and began turning through the passageway – before long she lost track of which way they came from and she just followed him blindly, wondering if she would ever be able to find her way around. Eventually, Gumo came to a stop before a door at the end of the passageway.

He knocked thrice. "Your Highness, I've brought your fiancée," he called. After a few seconds, she heard Romeo give his permission for them to enter, and the butler held the door open for her, ushering her inside. She looked around the room as she went in, taking note of Romeo's living quarters – it was completely different from what she was used to in the manor, especially when compared to her attic.

His room was significantly bigger than the attic. It had a high ceiling, and the room's walls were made of smooth, polished wood. The room was tidy and deceptively simple; though there were relatively few pieces of furniture, each item had exquisite detailing that hinted at skilled craftsmanship and a hefty price tag. The item that most drew her attention was his bed. It was queen-sized at the very least, and the mattress was several times thicker than the threadbare one she slept on.

Romeo was seated at a desk. It was made of dark wood much like the rest of his furniture, and it looked sturdy and expensive. He raised his head when they entered, putting down whatever documents he had been reading. "I shall leave you two alone now," Gumo said, backing out of the room and shutting the door.

Miku would have liked him to stay – at least she felt somewhat comfortable around him. But he was gone before she could even open her mouth. "How do you find your surroundings so far?" Romeo asked, rising from his chair.

"The palace is nice. It looks different in the daytime," she answered. "Less creepy." His lips curved upwards at her comment, and it struck her exactly how good-looking he was. It was one thing when he was wearing his mask; when his blue eyes were uncovered and she could see his face in its entirety, she almost couldn't believe he was real. She gripped her skirt, glancing away from him.

It was the first time they were alone since he got her out of the cellar. She was still cautious around him – without the masquerade ball and her masks to protect her, she felt strangely exposed. She was afraid of what he'd see if she looked openly at him, afraid that he'd somehow be able to discern the thoughts in her mind.

"I'm glad you're more comfortable with it then," he said. "It wouldn't bode well if my bride-to-be was afraid of her new home." She jumped at the term he used – bride-to-be. It sank in that she was engaged to him, that she was finally _out_ of the manor and living the kind of life any other noble lady would yearn for.

But she wasn't sure if she wanted to marry him. Being a princess meant work and responsibilities. It meant being a figurehead, a representative for the country. She just wanted to escape her problems, not get herself involved in the affairs of a nation. "Why did you suddenly propose?" she asked. "You were quite adamant about not wanting a bride. I said yes only so I could get away from Lord Shion."

He laughed. "I know. Just take it that I was bored and I decided to help save you from the earnest young man. You were the best option to satisfy my father. And I believe you would make a good princess, given how charming you are."

She couldn't tell if he was being serious. There was a lilt to his voice that made her think he was teasing her. "But it's not that you have fallen in love with me."

He quietened, and his gaze flitted momentarily away from her. "No. I have not." He glanced at her again. "Is that something you are disappointed about?"

"…No." She decided to be truthful. "I don't think it's possible to change your mind or soften your heart within such a short period. We've only known each other for four days, after all. But I think maybe with enough time, I can change that."

"Oh? Such confidence." He stepped closer to her, studying her with a faint smile on his face. "I wish you all the best with that, then – but before we even go there, I'd like to ask you something. I heard rumours that your name was Kamui Miki. Yet you told me that your name is Cinderella. So, could you tell me which one is true?"

She had expected this to come, sooner or later. "I use the name Kamui Miki when I am introducing myself to others and do not want them to know my real name. It is only an alias and holds no actual meaning," she answered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that misusing the name of one of the Four Great Houses is a capital offence? We treat such things very seriously."

"And you would have me executed, Your Highness?" she asked, blinking innocently at him. He stared at her for a while, and neither of them said a word. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, beginning to get nervous about how he'd respond.

Finally, he spoke. "No. We can let it go just this once, but don't use that name again." He tilted his head, still looking intently at her. "Cinderella…that's your real name?" he asked.

She hesitated. She could tell him the truth. She could admit that she was Hatsune Miku, the long-lost daughter of the Hatsune family. He'd likely welcome her back into polite society with open arms, and she could begin to fight for her reputation and her family's future. But the threads of doubt still strangled her heart and in the end, she nodded – she'd keep her cards close to her and wait for a better opportunity.

He exhaled. She could see the glimmer of suspicion in his eyes still, but at least he wasn't accusing her of anything. "From this point onwards, I want to make one thing very clear. You are my fiancée, and any problems you have are mine too. You have the protection of the crown and _my_ promise that the palace will always be a haven for you. In exchange, all I ask for is that you'll be honest with me."

"I promise you that." She met his gaze unblinkingly, and the expression on his face softened. She felt a little guilty since she was _already_ lying to him, but she couldn't trust anyone yet, not when so many things hinged on her real name.

Len didn't believe her. She looked too guileless, and she answered too quickly. But when he told Gakupo he would investigate this matter he already guessed it would not be as simple as it seemed. If this was Hatsune Miku and she had gone to all these lengths to keep her identity a secret, then he wouldn't be able to pry the truth out of her with just a few promises and empty threats. No, he'd have to push harder.

But to push, first, he would need to win her trust. She was too skittish. Though she was still, she looked tense, like a deer ready to flee at any moment. "I've asked the servants to draw up a bath for you," he said. "Get yourself cleaned up. After that my father has requested that you see him, so don't keep him waiting for long."

"His Majesty would like an audience with me?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Why wouldn't he? You will be his daughter-in-law soon enough; it's only natural that he wishes to find out more about you, isn't it?" he answered. She bit her lip, and he found himself entertained by just how evident her nervousness was.

"I…" She met his gaze and something like resignation flitted across her face. "I see. Thank you for letting me know. I'll make sure to be quick."

He nodded. "The bath is ready for you there," he pointed towards the door in his room that led to the bathing chamber, "and I believe the servants have prepared something you can change into after you're done. If you need anything, just tell me through the door and I will arrange it for you. I will be doing work at my desk."

"I am to bathe here? In your room?" She blinked. "I apologise, I just thought that I'd be cleaning up elsewhere. I'd rather not dirty your bathing chamber."

He stared at her. "Where else would you bathe? You're my fiancée, after all." He saw the realisation dawn on her face, the intensifying panic in her green eyes, and he couldn't help but feel amused. "Did you think you'd have a room of your own?"

"Perhaps…" she mumbled, her gaze flitting from corner to corner of his room. She suddenly reminded him of a cornered animal, searching for ways to escape. Maybe she never gave much thought as to what accepting his proposal meant.

He found it difficult to believe that someone could be so _unaware_ , but there was a certain innocence about her, and the uncertainty on her face was too genuine for him to think that she was putting on an act.

"Well, to prevent any misunderstandings," he said, "you agreed to marry me. That means we will be husband and wife. Which _also_ means," he paused, meeting her gaze, "that you'll be sleeping in my room. On my bed. I hope that clarifies."


	12. Chapter 12

The bath felt amazing. Steam wafted lightly up from the water's surface, and she sank into the tub with a sigh, allowing her eyes to close.

But the king was waiting for her, so she couldn't dawdle. She wondered what he wanted to talk to her about. Thinking about it made her nervous, so she tried to put that aside for now, reaching for the soap perching precariously on the edge of the tub. She was finally taking a bath and she would make sure to enjoy every minute of it.

She could smell flowers as she worked the soap through her hair, and she smiled. This bathing chamber was even better than Lucinda's, though that was expected – she was in the palace, after all. When she was done with her hair, she let her arms drop into the water, and rose-scented bathwater splashed against her chest.

It was tempting to fall asleep in the bath, but it would be rude to make His Majesty wait. Allowing herself just a few moments to luxuriate in the warm water, a little sigh escaped her lips as she sank further into the tub. Unbidden thoughts of Romeo came to mind and she recalled the last thing he said before she went to bathe – immediately her eyes flew open, and she scowled at the water's surface.

Sharing a bed with him? She wasn't ready. She hadn't even wanted to stay in the same room as him. She assumed she wouldn't have to think about this until they were legitimately married, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Granted, sharing his bed was the least of her concerns. She could deal with that, provided he didn't get too touchy with her – not that she thought he would, of course. Not when he was still so hung up over his previous fiancée. But the _thought_ of sleeping with another man still flustered her somewhat. It was so intimate, even if all they did was sleep on the same bed. And would he expect more than that?

After all, since he was the prince he probably had to worry about producing an heir, right? She clapped her hand over her mouth at the thought. No, she had to get out of here before anything of _that_ sort happened. She wasn't ready for children. Until she got her inheritance back, her main focus was her family's reputation – all these other things could wait, and she was _not_ going to let marriage stand in her way.

Exhaling, she washed her hair and body clean, then stepped regretfully out of the warm bath to towel herself dry. She searched for the outfit that had been readied for her and found it hanging at the door – her eyes widened as she picked up the black negligee, a thin piece of silk that hardly deserved to be called clothing.

Who had thought this was a good idea? Her face flamed as she held the negligee against her body. It was knee-length, but that was its only redeeming quality. The neckline dipped too much at the chest – she might as well expose her breasts to the world. And the thin straps did absolutely nothing to hide her shoulders.

There was no way she was walking out of the bathing chamber wearing this. She'd rather walk around in the towel. Fuming, she wrapped her towel securely around her, dangling the negligee off her index finger. Romeo was outside, wasn't he?

Len was reading a letter while he waited for Cinderella to be done with her bath. He didn't _have_ to read the letters – Gumo always put the important ones at the top of his pile each morning, so everything else could be ignored – but he was bored, and he didn't want to leave his room until his fiancée was done.

Did all women need such a long time to bathe? Rin always took a long time too…he shook his head, trying not to think about her. Now wasn't the right time to be reminiscing the past. He had a new fiancée now, someone he was supposed to investigate, and he couldn't allow himself to be distracted from that.

Part of him wished he could devote some time to properly mourn her. But every time he thought about that, he would freeze up, reluctant to open this door. He busied himself with work and his royal responsibilities because it helped take his mind off things. Off _her_. He was afraid of facing his demons, afraid of remembering that her death had been so very avoidable, and it was entirely his fault.

He shook his head again, more vigorously this time. Now definitely wasn't the time to think about this. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, studying the smooth, panelled wood that matched the rest of the room's walls. He wondered how many trees had been felled to make his furniture. He wondered how old the furniture even was.

The door of the bathing chamber opened then, some steam escaping into his room. Cinderella stepped out, wrapped in nothing but her towel, holding onto a thin black nightdress. There was a pink flush to her face, and she looked cross.

"I can't wear this!" she exclaimed, thrusting the nightdress at him. "It's so…it's so _scandalous_!"

Len stared. "What's the problem?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She held the dress against herself. "Look! It shows too much skin!" She plucked at the straps and shook the dress, making the silk ripple. "And this is too low-cut. It'd make me look so indecent," she continued, pinching the neckline.

"I think it'd look good on you," he answered. He was being truthful, and anyway he thought she was kicking up a huge fuss over nothing, but she glared at him and shook the nightdress again, holding it an arm's length away from her.

"I'm _not_ wearing this," she insisted. "I apologise for causing any inconvenience, but I refuse to walk around looking like a lady of the night."

"How would _you_ know what they wear?" he countered, and she blinked, her already pink cheeks darkening. Her mouth opened but she faltered, and he shook his head, taking pity on her. "Very well. If you're not comfortable with this then I'll request for a change of clothes. I'm not sure if we have anything else you could wear, though."

"Anything will do," she answered quickly. "Even if it's a servant's outfit. I just don't want to wear this negligee."

"You know eventually I'll have to see you without any clothes on, right?" he mused. "I believe wearing this would be good practice for when that time comes." She just stared wordlessly at him with her lips parted and he laughed, taking the offending article of clothing from her limp fingers. "I can see you didn't give much thought as to what marriage entails, Cinderella. One of our responsibilities is ensuring there is a clear line of succession to the throne. Some level of nudity will be involved."

"I don't –" She paused and cleared her throat. "I admit that is not something I think too much about," she said, and he was slightly disappointed that she had managed to compose herself enough to speak again. "But maybe this is not the best time for discussion either. Could you please just help me request a change of clothes?"

"What if I changed my mind about helping you? What will you do, then?" he asked, curious about how she'd respond. This was the first time he had seen Cinderella so flustered, and he wondered how far he could push her. She shot him an icy glare.

"Then I simply will not leave this room," she said. "And you can tell your father that I am too ashamed to greet him because his son would rather that I dress like a tart."

"I could always pick you up and carry you out, you know. And I'm sure you'd agree that is far more undignified than just putting this negligee on." He folded his arms across his chest and leant against the bedpost, giving her a lazy grin.

It was entertaining to see her fume silently at him. He continued to watch as her gaze flitted around the room, looking anywhere but at him – after a minute or so, she finally sighed. "Please. I don't want to wear something so revealing."

He found it fascinating that she was so reluctant to bare skin around him – mostly since her towel didn't cover all that much, to begin with. But also because he was used to women attempting to seduce him by exposing their shoulders, their ankles, their cleavage, whatever else they thought he might be interested in.

Most of the time he found it laughable, if not tasteless. "Fine." He walked over to the speaking tube next to his desk and leant towards it, making sure to enunciate clearly. "Gumo. Please find a spare ladies' uniform and bring it up to my room."

His butler responded with a sound of assent and he rose back up, glancing at her – she gave him a grateful look, and he nodded, noting that she was uncomfortable discussing anything that was even remotely sexual. That knowledge might come in useful.

As they waited in silence, Cinderella folded the negligee and placed it on his desk, watching him cautiously as she did so. With her free hand, she continued to hold up her towel, and he wondered if she thought he'd pounce on her.

He wasn't particularly interested. She was beautiful, but he'd seen any number of maidens before and he had long realised that beauty didn't mean anything. Sure, he'd bed her if duty dictated he must, but other than that she had nothing to worry about. "You don't have to be so cautious around me, you know."

"I'm not," she answered, though her stiffness gave her away. "It's just a little cold, and I'd like to put something on. Don't suggest the negligee," she added.

"I wasn't about to." Though his lips curved up as he spoke. "I have a question for you that maybe you can answer while we wait," he said, and she looked at him with careful curiosity in her eyes, her fingers gripping the soft white cotton of the towel. "How are you related to the Hatsunes? And why were you locked in the cellar?"

"Dowager Duchess Hatsune is my aunt," she said. "My mother sent me to live with her since she married into nobility – she hoped that would improve my prospects. She believed if I could also marry into the aristocracy, my future would be assured."

He noticed that she didn't answer his second question. "Your family are not nobles, wherever they're from?" he asked. She shook her head. "That is difficult to believe. You have the grace and manner of one raised among the aristocracy."

"My family does not own any titles, but we have some money – enough to give me a proper governess, who ensured I would learn as much as noble ladies did." Her answer was smooth and sure. He couldn't tell if she was lying or not.

"Where are you from, then?" he asked. He realised he'd never raised the question before – the first night when she told him she was a foreigner, she didn't seem keen on divulging her background and he was polite enough not to press for information. The next two nights he had been so distracted by what his father revealed to him that it slipped his mind entirely to ask about her supposed country of origin.

"Blousia," she answered. He recognised the name – it was a country not far from here, one that they had strong trade and political ties with. The people in Blousia were not very different from them, sharing similar traditions, holidays and mindsets. "I was born here, though. We settled there when I was a child, but my mother always wanted me to come back. The opportunities are better here."

It wasn't wrong to say that. Blousia was a small nation, heavily dependent on them for military assistance. In exchange, the country granted them free trade, which was beneficial given their strategically-located port. Merchants from faraway countries with exotic goods often stopped by Blousia on the way to other places.

There was a knock on the door then, and Gumo entered the room, holding onto a clean uniform – he saw Cinderella standing there wrapped in nothing but a towel and quickly averted his gaze. "The uniform, Your Highness. As you requested," he said, staring resolutely at him instead. Len nodded and took the uniform from his butler, and Gumo quickly ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"He seems flustered," Cinderella noted. He wondered if he should tell her that it was because of the way she was dressed, but that would fluster _her_ too and he'd rather not put up with her stammering. His father was waiting.

"Change. We may have to explain why you're dressed like one of the servants, but I don't suppose there is any other choice." He thrust the uniform towards her and she took it, staring intently at him as she headed towards the bathing chamber. "Look, I don't know why you seem to think I'm some kind of pervert, but believe me the last thing I'm interested in right now is how you look naked, so just go and _change_."

He heard her mumble something, though she was so soft that he couldn't make out what she said exactly. She ducked into the other room and he waited, wondering what he should do while she was occupied. The negligee laid on his desk, shimmering in the morning light that streamed in from his window, and he reached for it, his fingers lingering on the smooth material. As he rubbed the silk between his fingers, he noted it had an almost pearlescent sheen.

A pity Cinderella didn't want to wear it. He genuinely thought she'd look lovely in this. But well, if this was what she wanted then he wouldn't comment further.

When she came out of the bathing chamber, he was back to reading his letters. He looked up at the sound of the door opening – she looked satisfied with her dress, and he thought that she somehow managed to make the servant's uniform look flattering. It was a simple black and white maid's outfit, but she looked quite adorable.

With a shrug, he placed the letter on his desk – it was an invitation to yet another gala dinner, and he made a mental note to get Gumo to decline on his behalf later. "You certainly look comfortable in this. Shall we proceed to meet His Majesty?"

She nodded, trepidation on her face, and he led the way out of the room. He didn't think this would be a very long meeting, but he didn't tell her that – it was fun to watch her squirm, and he wondered how she'd be like when she was in front of Gakupo. If his father pressed her for the truth, would she admit her name? Lying to the king was a crime punishable by execution, after all. Surely she knew that.

Miku kept her thoughts to herself as she followed Romeo down the hallway. They weren't talking, but that was fine. She preferred it when he was silent, anyway. Every time he opened his mouth, he'd either ask about her background or he'd say something that left her speechless – neither of these scenarios was enjoyable.

What would the king ask about? She wasn't prepared in the slightest. If he began to ask her about her family history, she could probably make something up but she hoped her lies wouldn't trap her in a corner. She knew what was the punishment for treason, and she fully intended to keep her head on her shoulders.

They were walking up the stairs now, towards the floor with the throne room. She briefly entertained the thought of running away but where could she go, even if she fled? She wasn't familiar with the layout of the palace.

When they got to the next floor, instead of turning towards the throne room as she expected, he headed in the opposite direction. She glanced back at the imposing double doors, noticing that there were no guards stationed there today – if the king was not in the throne room, then where would she have her audience?

"The throne room is mostly used for guests and visiting dignitaries, not members of the family. Most of the time, anyway." He had evidently noticed the way she kept looking at the double doors. "My father just wants to have a friendly chat with you. He's probably not going to ask about your history or lineage…at least not today." His blue eyes gleamed, and she couldn't help but feel a little worried.

Nodding, she followed him as they turned a corner, still unsure of where they were headed. He glanced at her. "My father is an easy-going man who doesn't abuse his authority. You don't need to worry about him making life difficult for you."

His tone was even, almost cool, but she understood it was meant to reassure her. Though his words didn't help to calm her nerves, she still smiled, and he held her gaze for a moment before turning away.

After a minute or so, he drew to a stop before a door. "This is my father's room. I'll be with you during your conversation if that makes you feel any better." No, it didn't really. "If my father asks about your state of dress, just say that you needed a change of clothes. I'll accompany you to town later to get some dresses tailored."

She blinked. "You will?" She hadn't given much thought to her wardrobe – she was pretty comfortable with just wearing whatever the servants wore, actually. It was far better than the rags she wore in the Hatsune manor; this fabric was thick and comfortable, and best of all the dress was clean. But then again, she supposed that as Romeo's fiancée, she couldn't be seen dressed as a maid.

"Would you rather I not?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you prefer I could get Gumo to chaperone you instead. I doubt he would mind."

"No, no. It's not that. I just…I didn't think _you_ would have the time to accompany me for something as frivolous as clothes shopping." She didn't want to admit that she didn't think he would purchase an entirely new wardrobe for her. It wasn't that she thought he was stingy. But given the way he had spoken to her after her bath, she didn't think of him as being particularly considerate.

"It would be a nice excuse to get out of work for a while." He didn't look at her as he replied, his gaze drifting towards the wall. "And eventually _you'll_ need to start fulfilling your duties as well. Can't have you showing up at balls looking like this."

Something about his blasé tone rubbed her the wrong way, but she decided to hold her tongue – she didn't want the king to overhear her snapping at his son. Why did he have to be so – was insufferable the right word? She had seen glimpses of this during the ball, but he had still been somewhat gentlemanly for the most part. Now he was borderline _rude_.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and he knocked on the door, not even waiting for a response before he pushed it open. She kept her gaze lowered as she entered the room, studying the beautifully intricate carpet that covered part of the floor. The next thing she noticed was a pair of feet in white bedroom slippers.

"Ah, Cinderella. So, you managed to catch my son's fancy." She heard the king's voice – it was a soothing, rich baritone, and some of the butterflies in her stomach settled. She lifted her gaze and saw him studying her, a thoughtful look on his face. "I was certain he would choose you if he _had_ to pick someone. And it looks like I was correct!" He shot Romeo a gleeful grin, and Romeo sighed.

"I didn't know there was a bet going on, Your Majesty. Would you like a prize?" he said, and she wondered if this was normal for the two of them. It was strange to see a noble father-son pair behaving so informally. Such behaviour was frowned upon, even in private – sons were expected to show deference to the head of the household. Maybe things were different for the royal family.

She had been very close to her father when she was a child, but even he put some distance between them as she grew older, especially after her mother's death. She knew her father loved her, but part of his heart died with her mother, and the way they spoke to each other became a little strained. She swallowed – she knew something had changed between them, and she missed her father's laughter, but she never dared to talk to him about it. And now, there was no way to reach him.

"You're as impolite as ever, my son. That sharp tongue of yours will scare your bride away if you're not careful," the king cautioned. Romeo rolled his eyes but didn't say anything, and she was left stunned by his utter lack of decorum.

The king smiled at her. "I apologise you had to hear that, Cinderella. Believe me, he is not normally such a brat, but he didn't sleep well, so he's crankier than usual today. Which says something, since he's almost always in an awful mood," he added as an aside, ignoring the glare Romeo shot him at his words.

"It's not a problem, Your Majesty." She forced a smile on her face. "Romeo has been nothing but hospitable ever since he brought me to the palace. I'm grateful for all the help he has offered so far." She could feel his gaze piercing her, but she forced herself not to glance at him – looking at Romeo now would just make her lose her nerve.

"Really? Then perhaps he _is_ in a better mood today. It's rare that anyone describes him as helpful." It appeared that the king enjoyed teasing his son – Romeo did not seem offended, so she figured that indeed, this was normal. What an interesting dynamic they had. "May I ask why you are dressed as one of our servants, however?"

"I didn't have a clean set of clothes to wear, so I borrowed a uniform. This is temporary," she answered. "It's quite a nice outfit, though."

The king looked amused. "Is it? I'm glad you like it. I asked a tailor to specially design the uniforms for our servants, you know. Thought it might foster a sense of belonging if they had something nice to wear." He paused. "You seem like a charming young lady. Where are you from?"

"Blousia," she said, offering the same answer she gave Romeo. This was the first time she felt grateful for the lessons she was forced to sit through as a child. She did not remember everything that she learnt, but she knew enough to lie convincingly.

"Oh, Blousia. An important neighbour." He nodded. "Then I am pleased to welcome you to our family. Out of curiosity, are you of noble descent?"

She hesitated, wondering how she ought to frame her answer – she already told him that her supposed family _wasn't_ noble, but if her origins were something the king cared about, she could say that she was related to the Hatsune family.

But he was looking expectantly at her, and she couldn't hold off answering for much longer, so she lowered her gaze and tried to sound as apologetic as possible. "No, I am not. But that is why I am here. I hope to learn about the aristocracy."

"I see. You are well-mannered though, for someone who was not born into a noble family." His blue eyes reminded her uncomfortably of Romeo's. She knew they didn't share a blood relation, but the colour of their eyes was strikingly similar.

"My family owned enough money to educate me." She glanced at Romeo then – he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, studying her. "My dear parents wanted me to integrate with noble society, so they saw it as a worthy investment. I apologise if my lack of noble blood might be a problem."

His smile softened. "No, it is no problem. Once you marry into our family then you are a royal. There is no question about that." He paused. "Though I've heard rumours that you are related to the Dowager Duchess Hatsune. Is that true?"

She nodded. "She is my aunt. My mother's sister."

"Interesting. You have connections in high places." The king glanced at his son, who just stared back, his expression impassive. "One last question then, if I may. Tell me, is Cinderella your real name?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation – she couldn't allow herself to falter now, even if this was a blatant lie, even if Romeo and the king doubted her truthfulness. "It is a unique name for sure, but it certainly makes me memorable."

He chuckled. "Indeed, that is so. Well, I hope that you get along well with my son, Cinderella – let me know if he does anything to make you uncomfortable. I will give him a good scolding," he promised. Romeo mumbled something inaudible in response. "He can be remarkably stubborn, so I apologise for him in advance."

"I will not have you slandering my good name any more than you already have," Romeo interjected. "Let's go, Cinderella." He caught her by the elbow and started to walk out of the room, ignoring her protests – she caught the king's eye and gave him an apologetic look as Romeo flung the door open and strode out to the hallway. The king was laughing as they left, and Romeo sighed.

"You can let go now," she said, trying to shake his hand off – he released her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "You need to stop dragging me around all the time. I am not your plaything, and it's annoying to be treated like a ragdoll."

"Maybe if you stopped hemming and hawing all the time I wouldn't have to drag you anywhere," he answered, sounding surprisingly antsy. She blinked. Had the audience upset him?

But even if he was in a bad mood that gave him no right to take it out on her. "I wasn't stuttering. _You_ were the one who cut short my audience! Whatever he tells me isn't your problem, and you had no right to drag me out like that."

When he turned to her, she withdrew, suddenly intimidated – it was the first time she had seen such a cold look on his face. All this time he trod the line between rude and charming, and he had been stubborn and insistent on getting his way, but now she couldn't help but recoil from him – his blue eyes were stormy.

"You agreed to marry me. You will be my bride, my _wife_ , so keep in mind that your first duty is to your husband. To protecting his reputation. Or is that a concept that your naïve little mind fails to grasp?" he asked. He hadn't snapped at her but she flinched as though he had. Nothing she had said deserved this kind of response.

"Well, I _apologise_ for failing to be a dutiful wife," she hissed. "But it's not as though we are married yet, are we? I will do what I must in the public eye but don't expect me to fawn over you just because. I will not be anything like your ex-fiancée."

She wasn't sure what possessed her to say that, but he became terribly still, something almost like shock in his eyes. She stared unblinkingly back at him, tilting her chin, though her heart was racing in her chest.

"You're a bold one, aren't you?" he finally answered, and to her surprise his posture relaxed, a small smile crossing his lips. "It makes me look forward to stripping away the many layers you have – both figuratively and not." His slender fingers seized her chin and he leant close, not allowing her to pull away. "I have reasons to suspect that you're not telling us the truth, Cinderella," he whispered, "and _you_ know the punishment for lying to the king. It's a dangerous game you're playing here."

His voice was soft against her ear and she shivered, tempted to push him away and leave, but his nearness made every muscle in her body tense and she couldn't move. "I don't know what makes you think I'm lying. I've been nothing but honest."

"Indeed. If that's what you claim." He studied her, his clear blue eyes still cold and piercing – it reminded her of a snowstorm in winter, beautiful but deadly. "Well, let us have a tour of the palace, then. It would be better if you're familiar with your new home. At the very least you should remember how to get to the dining hall."

Just like that he released her and suddenly he was grinning roguishly, ignoring the look of confusion on her face. "Shall we get going?" he asked, reaching for her hand, and she just nodded wordlessly, unsure of how else to respond.

His blue eyes gleamed. "Let's start with the way back to our room." He sounded so normal that she wondered about the tension between them just moments ago – did that really happen? Or had she imagined the whole thing?


	13. Chapter 13

This tour was brief compared to the others he gave her at the ball. It seemed almost like he was in a hurry, though he denied that when she asked.

The palace had five floors in total, with a basement. It was a sprawling expanse and Romeo admitted it wouldn't be possible to go through the whole area within a day, but he wanted to show her the most important places. That included the dining hall, the kitchen, Gumo and his sister's rooms, and the entrance to the grounds.

"There isn't much to look at. Most of the rooms store art and paintings, and we have too many guest rooms to count." They were walking through the palace grounds, and she could see the rose gardens in the distance. "I think the best part of the palace is the grounds. Open space, and the fragrance of flowers in the air."

"I take it that this is where we will find you most of the time," she said. He hummed in assent, and she made a mental note of that – she doubted she'd have any real reason to look for him, but that was useful to remember just in case.

"Though I do spend a lot of time in my study. Reports go through me before they reach my father," he added, noticing her look of curiosity. "I decide whether or not they're important enough for His Majesty's attention, or if the report has to be revised before proceeding any further. The Chamber is prone to leaving out details."

"The Chamber?" she echoed.

"The Chamber of Commerce," he clarified. "Our country's affairs are split among three bodies – the Chamber of Commerce, the High Council and the House of Representatives. They represent the merchants, the nobles and the common folk respectively. Any decisions made by them must be approved by my father."

She knew of their existence. Her father had been one of the nobles who sat on the High Council – all the Great Houses had a claim there. She knew he had been important but she wasn't exactly sure how big his role was.

"And you look through their petitions before they go up to the king? All of them?" she asked. He nodded. "I see. How many such reports are there in a day?"

His lips quirked up. "A fair number. It's not just them – there's also the church and other organised groups. It ranges from matters of national importance to frivolous invitations to evening parties. And _everything_ goes through me. It gets tiring."

"Do you often travel?" If he had to leave the palace for work matters then she would be able to act with fewer restrictions, maybe sort out her private affairs. She still didn't have a clear idea what her next step should be, but surely not having him around would only be beneficial. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why? Do you want to accompany me on a business trip?" he asked. She gave him a noncommittal shrug and his brow furrowed slightly. "I do go on them sometimes. But it depends on my father. If he nominates me to travel in his place, then I don't have a choice. If he doesn't make any comment, then I generally prefer not to go."

"Isn't it fun, though? Travelling?" she asked. He didn't answer for a while, but his expression was curiously blank and she wondered what he was thinking.

"No. I don't like travelling," he finally said. She was surprised by how flat his answer sounded. "And if you don't have any business outside of the palace, I would prefer you not go overseas either. As the princess, you shouldn't leave the palace too often."

"But what if I want to visit my family in Blousia?" she protested. Not that she had any relatives staying overseas, of course. But she was indignant at the thought of being confined to the palace. She had concocted this plan to escape her situation – she didn't want to simply move from a small cage to a bigger one. Romeo looked at her, expression unreadable. "You're being unfair."

"Ask them to visit you," he suggested. "They can always stay in the palace. There is more than enough space to accommodate your family, and besides, our country has more opportunities to build wealth. I don't see why they should stay in Blousia."

"We have friends and relationships there. It's not so easy to just up and leave!" she exclaimed. His gaze was blank, but she felt the abrupt urge to step back – nothing had changed about his expression, yet something felt distinctly different now.

"We are the royal family. Sacrifices have to be made. I gave up my past and my very identity to come here. You have to give up your family. That's simply how it works. If you don't like it," his blue eyes watched her, "then you shouldn't have said yes."

For a while neither of them said anything. All she could hear was the whisper of the wind as it blew through the grounds, but she focused on him – all of a sudden she figured out what felt so different about him. He seemed almost… _sad_.

She wasn't sure how she could tell. But there was no mistaking the heaviness in the air. She didn't know how to respond to it – she'd never had to comfort another person before, and she doubted he would want her to acknowledge that he was upset anyway. He seemed too proud. He looked towards the rose gardens, and with a sigh, he started heading in their direction. She decided to follow him.

"You don't need to come with me." He stopped walking when he noticed her going after him. "I've shown you everything you'd need for the time being. Maybe you should go back and rest. I assume you might be tired after all that has happened."

"No. I want to follow you." It was the first time she'd seen him like this – she had seen him cold, she had seen him being playful, she had seen him polite, but there was a strange vulnerability about him now. She wondered if that vulnerability was why he was trying to chase her back to the palace. He glanced at her, face still impassive.

"Suit yourself." He continued on his way and she went quietly – she didn't know what she expected from this, but something told her that she shouldn't leave him alone. They came to a stop in front of the rose gardens and she marvelled at how beautiful the flowers were in the daytime – now that she was able to see the gardens properly, she noticed they covered a massive area. There was a maze right in the centre too.

"Roses are beautiful, aren't they?" he said, reaching out to a nearby bloom. The vivid red was a stark contrast against his fair skin. "The colour of pain. The colour of death. Drops of blood on fresh snow." He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you have a favourite flower?"

"I like roses too." He let go of the bloom, and she noticed a thin line of red on his index finger. It was almost the same shade as the flower he released. "You're bleeding!" Instinctively, she tried to take a closer look, but he snatched his hand away.

"I'm fine." He said this so tersely that she paused, her outstretched hand hovering in between them. "It's a small scratch. You don't need to worry about me." His gaze met hers for a second, then he glanced away. "It'd be better if you didn't."

"You don't want me to worry about you?" she asked, confused. She was sure that any wife and husband were supposed to be concerned for each other, especially when one of them was injured. He froze for a moment, and she was about to prompt him when he suddenly turned to her with a smile on his face. The smile didn't look genuine at all.

"Are you fretting over me?" he answered. "You don't need to force yourself to pretend if you're not. You don't know me very well, so that's understandable."

She was taken aback at how blunt his words were. "Even if I wasn't your fiancée, it's normal to be concerned for someone who's hurt. It's not a question of how well we know each other." Did she really just have to explain that? Wasn't it common sense?

He looked at her, his smile fading. Instead of answering her question, he cleared his throat. "When do you want to get married?" he asked, abruptly changing the topic. "I'm fine with any date. Though I suppose the sooner it's done, the better."

"You make marriage sound like a chore. You're the one who proposed, you know," she reminded him. He laughed, and the oppressive atmosphere lifted. She was relieved that the sadness she sensed was gone, but part of her wondered why he had suddenly felt that way. What Gumo said about him being vulnerable around her went through her mind. Was there a kernel of truth to what the butler claimed?

"Well, in some way it is. It's not a marriage of love, after all." He eyed the maze in the centre of the garden. "Since you're here, why don't you take a walk with me?" he asked, extending a hand in invitation. The scratch was still there, and her gaze couldn't help but be drawn to it – she hesitated for just a second before she placed her hand in his, her fingers covering the wound. "We won't get lost, don't worry."

Getting lost wasn't her concern. But she kept silent and allowed him to lead her into the maze – the green walls rose around them, and after a few steps, the entire world seemed to quieten. "My father will likely make an official announcement in the evening about our betrothal. But most of the nobles should know by now."

"What duties will I have, once we get married?" she asked. She didn't have any real preference for the date. She just wanted to know what she'd be getting herself into, and make her plans accordingly. "I assume I won't just be in the palace all day."

"Hmm. Your duties will depend on your talents." His hand was warm. She belatedly realised that his hand was the first she had held in over six years. It felt…nice. It had been so long since she touched someone this way, even if he _was_ someone that she couldn't quite read. Her fingers tightened around his.

"Give me some examples." There didn't seem to be anyone else in the maze. She wasn't sure if he was walking around randomly or if he intended to go somewhere. But the deeper they went, the quieter everything became.

It wasn't a frightening silence, though. Just peaceful. "If you're a skilled negotiator, you will be sent to talks with diplomats and merchants. If you're good at speeches then you will attend events that require royal representation. And if you are well-versed in multiple languages then you will speak with foreign dignitaries. My father doesn't believe that ladies are only meant to stay home and look pretty."

That sounded like a lot of work. "And I will have to fulfil these duties once we are married and I'm legally a princess?" she clarified. He nodded.

"But don't expect to just sit in the palace and do nothing even if we aren't married. You will still be given tasks to keep you busy. Just not in the official capacity."

If taking on royal duties would only add to her workload, then maybe it was better to hold off the wedding until a later date, once she had sorted out her plans. "Let's have the wedding at the end of the year, then. When the snow begins to fall."

"You like winter?" he asked. She nodded. Though she only suggested the date to benefit her plans, she did like the season. When the snow blanketed everything and it was serene and quiet, the whiteness hiding all the death around them. Winter was too cold for fires to thrive in the outdoors. Winter was a time for death and rebirth – when the chill seeped into her bones and the pain reminded her that she was still _alive_.

"Very well. I'll let my father know." He smiled, and she blinked in surprise – it was a brilliant smile, the kind she didn't think she'd seen on his face before. For once she could detect no hidden meaning behind it. He was simply smiling, and part of her thought that he ought to smile this way more often. He was beautiful when he did.

"You seem pleased." She felt a sudden urge to say something. He laughed, and his grip on her tightened just a little.

"I am. It's strange to hear the two of us decide on something, instead of dancing around the topic like we usually do. It's a nice change."

She couldn't figure him out. Sometimes she'd decide he was charming and polite, but then he'd change her mind by saying something rude or sounding hostile. Yet once she decided that he was cold and distant and she should avoid him as much as she could, he would subvert her expectations _again_ and behave in this manner.

What on earth was he thinking? "It sounds like you enjoy it when we cooperate."

"Isn't cooperation better than conflict? I wish you'd always be straightforward and honest with me, Cinderella. But I doubt that would happen. You have your secrets, and I have mine. Yet we are undeniably curious about each other." He glanced at her. "Why don't we make a game out of it? The first one to give in and reveal their secrets will owe the other a favour. Whatever the winner wants. What do you say?"

She smiled despite herself. How bold of him to assume that she was curious about his secrets – but he wasn't wrong. She was, to some extent. More knowledge would only benefit her. And the prize sounded tempting. She doubted she would lose.

"This sounds amusing. Would there be any timeframe for our bet?" she asked.

"The date of our wedding. Let's have our wedding the day after it first snows. If by then neither of us have given in, then we both win – or we both lose, depending on how you see it." He paused. "What do you think would be a suitable penalty?"

"Penalty?" She blinked. "That doesn't seem very fair. Should we both be punished for being able to keep a secret?"

"Well, if the point of the bet is to get one of us to reveal our secrets, then neither of us giving in would be a sign that we both won and lost," he said.

That sounded logical. "I see. How about this? If neither of us wins, then the marriage doesn't happen. There is no point to a wedding if there is no trust between us. We both return to our former lives, and we pretend that we never knew each other."

Though if that was the case she'd run away from here and find another haven. There was no way she'd go back to the Hatsune manor, not with her stepfamily still there. By then she would likely have money, so she could act on her own. It didn't matter to her whether she won or if both of them lost – either way would benefit her.

Surprise flitted across his face, but then he grinned, lifting their intertwined hands to his mouth – she flinched in surprise when his lips brushed against the back of her hand. "You're truly interesting. So you would risk your marriage into the royal family?" He met her gaze, and she had no idea what he was thinking. "Very well, I accept those terms. We have approximately a year until the snow comes. By then you will fall in love with me, and you'll let me know whatever secrets I want to know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't be so confident. It will most likely be the other way round," she said, and he just smiled, allowing their hands to fall back into position.

"You don't even know my name, and that's supposed to be common knowledge in this region. I'm not too certain about your prospects of winning, Cinderella."

She was tempted to tell him that he didn't know her real name either, but she held her tongue. "I'll find out eventually, don't you worry. And when I do, you'd best be prepared for the favour I will demand." Not that she had thought of anything yet.

He laughed. "My name is the least of my concerns. That's not the secret I mind you finding out about," he teased. "If you poke around the palace long enough you will probably discover my real identity. Not that I'm giving you any clues," he added, noticing the way she smiled at him. "I believe you and I are honest enough to admit once we have divulged a particularly sensitive secret. And that will be the way to win. When you tell me about your past, or when I tell you about mine."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your game has too many loopholes. How would you know whether or not I'm telling the truth about my past?" she asked.

He paused. "It'll all be down to faith, then." He looked her square in the eyes. "If I do care enough about you to want to admit my secrets, then you can rest assured that I won't lie. It's up to you whether you want to honour the intent of the game."

She considered. A game without a promise wouldn't go anywhere. There would be too much second-guessing, too much suspicion, and no real way to determine who the winner was. "I swear that if I ever reveal the truth, then I will also admit my loss."

"As will I." He grinned. "Though you won't get a single thing out of me. But I look forward to seeing you try."

"Don't be so arrogant. It's unbecoming of a prince," she answered. He shrugged, though his smile remained on his face, and together they turned a corner – she saw that they had finally reached the centre of the maze. Her eyes widened. There was a small, elegant pavilion along with a well in the middle of the square. "It's lovely."

"It's a nice place to have tea if you're willing to navigate the maze," he agreed. "It used to be empty, you know. This square. But my father had the pavilion built when he realised how much I valued my privacy. Being in the palace can be distracting." He led her towards the pavilion and she sat, marvelling at the architecture.

It was a graceful thing, made of white stone with vines twining up the sides. Wildflowers were growing all around them, and despite its small size and its quaint appearance, there was something serene about this place. It felt so removed from the rest of the world. "Do you come here very often?" she asked.

"Whenever I need a break." He pursed his lips. "Feel free to visit when you want to escape your thoughts. But let me know first – I'd prefer that you didn't get lost in the maze. It's not very forgiving to those who are unfamiliar with it."

"I will. Thank you." She rose from the stone bench, heading to the well. "And what about this?" she asked, noticing a wooden sign next to the well – there were words etched onto the sign. _A penny for a thought, a dime for a wish._ She peered inside the well – it was dry, but she could see the glint of numerous coins at the bottom.

"A passing fancy." His tone was flat. "A wishing well, or so it claims to be. Not that it has granted any of my wishes. My father had it constructed as a joke."

"Feels like a lot of effort for a joke, though." She glanced at him. He was staring at the well, and she felt a sudden shiver run through her. "All these are your coins?"

"No one else comes here." He didn't say anything more, and she didn't try to probe. "Would you like to make a wish? Maybe you'd have better luck than I do."

"I don't have any money –" He held out a coin, and she paused, hesitantly taking hold of it. "Thank you. I suppose there's no harm in making a wish."

She thought about what she ought to wish for. For her family's reputation and status to be restored? But that wasn't a wish. It was a goal, something she'd get done no matter what happened. If she wished, it should be for the unattainable. Wishes were hopes and dreams, something right on the cusp of truth. What did she yearn for?

 _I wish I could find a way to be happy_. She flipped the coin into the well and clasped her hands, closing her eyes. It was a silly thing. She knew she'd only be happy if her family could go back to the way it once was – her parents both alive and laughing with her. But it was an impossible dream and an impossible wish.

"I hope all your dreams come true." His voice was so soft that she almost didn't hear him – when she opened her eyes and glanced at him, he wasn't even looking in her direction, and she wondered if she had just imagined his words.

She approached him, and he reached for her hand again. "Shall we go back to the palace? I can show you how to navigate the maze another day. It's quite simple, but at the same time it's easy to get lost if you're not careful."

She nodded. "I'd appreciate that. It'll be nice to come here whenever I want to." She paused. "Is that why you brought me into the maze? To show me your hideaway?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to get away from a bad memory. But you decided to follow me, remember? I thought I might as well bring you here since you wanted to come with me. We _are_ touring the palace, after all."

"What bad memory?" she asked, wondering if he would answer.

He leant close to her, a smile dancing on his lips. "Already trying to get my secrets out of me, I see. Perhaps I'll tell you about it if _you_ give me something in return."

She didn't know how to respond to his nearness. Part of her wanted to back away, but another part thought that if she stayed still maybe she could get him to admit something. "But if you tell me first that still means I'll win, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's not important enough to be _the_ secret." He tilted his head. "People all have different things they wish to hide. Some are small. Almost inconsequential." He exhaled. "Then there are others that constitute your entire being. A gaping black mass that chokes your lungs and whispers to you to let it out. The kind of secret you take with you to the grave. You dig a hole in the ground just so you can scream those forbidden words into something, _anything_. That's the secret I want."

Something that constituted her entire being. The secret of who she was. She knew what he wanted then – he wanted her to admit that her real name wasn't Cinderella. He wanted to hear the story of her true identity, and she wouldn't give it to him.

"Tell me about your memory and I'll tell you one of my nightmares," she offered.

His eyes gleamed. "That sounds like a fair exchange. Very well. I was thinking about my fiancée's death. I was the one who found her corpse. It wasn't a pretty sight."

He said this so matter-of-factly that she just gaped for a moment. There was nothing in his eyes – no pain, no anger, no sadness. She cleared her throat, realising that he hadn't divulged any details and therefore she didn't need to either.

"I have a recurring nightmare about being left behind. There was an accident. I was saved as a result of someone's sacrifice. And it always made me feel…guilty."

His gaze softened. "That sounds terrible. Did it stem from experience?"

"Possibly. That's not something I'm going to share with you today." She found her lips curving up and he sighed, shaking his head. This game was more fun than she expected. "For the purposes of our bet, shall we limit it to one exchange per day?"

"An exchange like the one we just had?" He paused. "Seems reasonable. Anything more and the game might just end too quickly. We have an entire year, after all."

After they reached their agreement, they headed back to the palace, and as she walked she heard her stomach grumble. Had it been that long since they went on that tour around the palace? The sun was high overhead. Her stomach growled again, and she held it, hoping it was time for lunch.

"Hungry, aren't you?" He sounded amused, and she glared at him, a little embarrassed that he could hear her stomach. "It's good timing. Gumi probably will have something prepared for us in the dining hall. I hope you enjoy the food."

Gumi. An unfamiliar name, but he had mentioned that she was the head servant and Gumo's twin sister. "Well, the food that was prepared for the ball was delicious. I believe I will enjoy my meal, no matter what it is," she answered.

He sighed. "The food is passable. They rarely prepare something I like, but then again my father and I have different tastes. They normally try to accommodate him."

"What _are_ your tastes?" she wondered. He gave her a mischievous grin.

"Only one exchange per day, remember?" He laughed. "And anyway, you'll find out soon. Let's see whether the kitchen was kind enough to indulge me today."


	14. Chapter 14

It didn’t take long for them to get out of the maze and enter the palace. As they approached the dining hall, Miku noticed a familiar girl waiting for them.

She had light green hair tied up in a bun and eyes that looked just like Gumo’s – she realised it was the servant she had seen at the ball. It was only now that she recognised her uncanny resemblance to Romeo's butler. So this was Gumi.

“Your Highnesses,” Gumi greeted them, glancing at Miku. She flinched at the title, still unused to the idea of being royalty. “Your afternoon meal is ready.”

Gumi opened the door, and Romeo breezed into the room with a casual word of thanks. The first thing she saw was a long dining table that could probably seat twenty – he went to the head of the table, sitting on the first chair to the left. She hesitated, unsure of where she ought to go, but then he gestured at her to sit opposite him.

One of the servants in the dining hall pulled out her chair, and she murmured her thanks. It was odd to be treated this way. Once they were both seated, another set of doors opened and two servants came in, each bearing a tray. They glided over and placed two bowls of soup in front of them. She smelled a whiff of mushroom.

She hesitated, eyeing Romeo – without any fuss, he picked up the spoon and began to eat. She followed suit, her eyes widening at the rich, decadent taste. The flavours were complex, and she knew this would be the best bowl of soup she ever had. She had to remind herself not to pick up the bowl and just gulp it all down.

The main dish itself was just as exquisite – seared pheasant with roast potatoes and seasonal vegetables – and she almost closed her eyes in bliss as she ate. Neither of them spoke while they had their lunch, though she wondered what he was thinking about. He seemed distracted, his gaze flitting all over the dining room.

After they were done with their meal and their plates were cleared, she noticed Romeo sit up in his chair and she wondered if there was anything else to serve. Then the same two servants appeared again, each bearing a small silver platter.

They set the platters on the table, uncovering them to reveal two tarts, both topped with a caramelised fruit. The one closest to her had a beautiful red strawberry on it, while the other one was garnished with an apple slice.

Romeo's eyes lit up at the sight of the tarts. “So, I’m allowed to have my treat today?” he asked with a triumphant grin – Gumi, who had been quietly watching them eat all this while, just narrowed her eyes at him.

“Your Highness, you should stop requesting for desserts all the time. Sugar is not cheap, you know,” Gumi answered, but he wasn’t listening to her – he picked up a fork and started demolishing his tart, making happy humming noises as he ate. Miku would never say this aloud, but his excitement was almost adorable.

Gumi let out an audible sigh, and Miku turned to look at her – the head servant met her gaze and shook her head, but her lips were curved into a smile.

“You like desserts?” she asked Romeo, who glanced up from his tart for just long enough to nod. He was almost childlike in his enthusiasm, and it was strange to see him behaving this way. It was the complete opposite of what he was usually like.

She tried a bite of the tart. It was crumbly at the edges with a soft, custardy centre – the strawberry was juicy and sweet, and she sighed, a faint sound of pleasure. This was amazing. She caught him eyeing her, having finished his tart, and she pulled her plate closer. She wouldn’t put it past him to try and steal her treat.

Gumi walked over to stand right behind him. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, and he slumped back into his chair, looking disappointed. Miku gave her a grateful look, and Gumi nodded back at her. Happily, she polished off her dessert, hiding a smirk when she saw the dejection on his face.

“Now that mealtime is over,” Gumi spoke while another pair of servants cleared the plates, “His Highness should return to his work. Gumo has informed me that you have a few reports due by today.” He sighed and rose from his chair, and Gumi turned her attention to her. “I understand His Highness has given you a tour but is there anywhere else you would like to go? My brother can show you around.”

“ _I_ can show her around,” he mumbled. Gumi shot him a disapproving look and he averted his gaze, stepping away from the dining table. There was reluctance on his face – he clearly didn’t want to go back to his reports.

It was strange to think about him doing any kind of work. She used to be under the impression that royals just stayed in their palace all day and left everything to their servants. Then again, the royal family had to oversee their people and think about matters of national importance. Maybe it wasn’t surprising that they did _some_ work.

“Is there a library?” she asked. Access to books and resources would probably be useful – she could start by finding out everything she could about her family’s history, and from there maybe she would discover something that allowed her to seize control of the dukedom. Her current knowledge of their history and laws was not enough. As her lawful mother, her stepmother had more influence than she did.

Maybe she could blame her stepmother for a crime. Something wicked enough for His Majesty to strip away her titles. Was neglect a strong enough reason? Probably not.

Come to think of it, didn’t Utatane Piko also request for her help? The palace library was probably as good a place as any to start. Maybe she could keep an eye out and see if the Order of Bethlehem was mentioned in any of the books she came across.

“Yes, there is.” Gumi nodded, looking pleased with her question. “My brother should be there right now. Let me call him so he can escort you. And you – you’re coming with me, Your Highness.” Gumi turned to Romeo, who froze, his hand reaching for the door of the dining hall. “You have to finish your work.”

“But today is supposed to be a rest day,” he answered, in a manner that reminded her of a petulant child. She couldn’t see the look on Gumi’s face since the head servant had turned towards Romeo, but after a moment he exhaled, looking resigned.

“Your Highness, please don’t fret. He is normally not like this – most of the time it’s almost impossible to tear him away from his work. I’m not sure what has gotten into him today.” It took a moment for Miku to realise that Gumi was addressing her.

“I’m right here, you know.” His feeble protest fell on deaf ears.

“I…am not worried?” The lilt in her voice made it sound more like a question than a response. “I’m sure he’s a responsible person.” Anyway, it didn’t matter to her how he treated his work. It had nothing to do with her. Or so she thought.

“That’s excellent. You see, His Majesty has instructed that from tomorrow onwards you will be helping His Highness with his workload. Please feel free to spend the rest of today familiarising yourself with the palace. Tomorrow will be rather busy.”

Gumi gave her a quick bow when she was done talking, but Miku just blinked back at her, unsure of how to respond. She would be helping with Romeo's work? She knew she’d have tasks to do – Romeo had warned her about that earlier – but _this_ soon?

“We should give her a quick overview of what to expect tomorrow!” He shot them a hopeful grin, but Gumi ignored him – instead, she placed her hand on Romeo's shoulder and steered him out of the room. He gave her a pained look right before the doors closed behind him, and then she was left alone in the dining hall.

Helping with his workload. How was she supposed to do that? He told her that he looked through every correspondence that was intended for the king, separating what was worthy of his father’s time from what was not. She knew _nothing_ about the country’s priorities or what might be deemed important. This seemed like a very bad idea.

Another thing she worried about was how much time all these tasks would take up. Romeo had admitted that he spent a great deal of time in his study, looking at reports. That did not bode well for her. She’d need to make time to research her family's history.

At that moment the door opened and Gumo slipped into the room. She relaxed a little when she saw the smile on his face. “My sister told me that you wish to visit the library. Do you like to read, Cinderella?” His eyes were practically sparkling.

“Yes, I do. Reading allows us to explore different worlds without having to step past the front door.” It helped to keep her sane when she was confined to the manor. During the six years she spent there, she had read every single book her parents collected.

Gumo seemed happy. “You’re right. You will enjoy the palace library, in that case – we have one of the largest collection of books in the entire country.” He held the door open for her and she thanked him as she stepped out, still unused to the formal way he treated her. Gumo was almost the opposite of his sister.

Where Gumi was stern and direct, he was soft and gentle. She found herself wishing that Romeo would behave a little more like his butler. “Do you spend a lot of time in the library, Gumo?” she asked as they walked together down the hallway.

“I have quite a bit of time on my hands, so yes.” Even though his voice was calm, she could see an almost feverish excitement in his eyes. “I’ve made it a personal goal to read all the books in the library. It might take many years, however.”

“How many books are there?” she wondered. The largest library in the country. She imagined there would be a significant number of books, but she didn’t have a real benchmark to compare against – the library in the Hatsune manor was a small room with a few shelves. There couldn’t have been more than two hundred books in total.

Two hundred books did not last one very long. “I’m not too certain myself,” Gumo replied. “I would give you an estimate but that would ruin the surprise. Perhaps you could take a guess when we enter the library,” he suggested. She was cheered by his excitement. It was nice to see someone else who liked reading so much.

They stopped in front of a set of double doors, right beside a window. The sunlight that streamed in was pleasantly warm. “This is the library,” Gumo announced, and when he opened the doors, she couldn’t help but gasp – the first thing she saw was shelves filled with books, stretching as far as the eye could see. There were easily thousands of books in here. She wondered how long it would take to finish reading them all.

“It’s breath-taking, isn’t it?” Gumo murmured beside her, and she nodded mutely, still stunned. “Are there any books you would prefer to read? I’m familiar with how they are organised, so I can recommend a few titles if you’re interested.”

“I like history,” she told him, finally finding her voice again. “If there’s anything in the library about the Great Houses, then I’d like to read that.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” He smiled. “Why don’t you take a seat over there? I’ll get you a few books that will be able to shed light on our country’s history and the Great Houses. And if you don’t mind…I’d like to recommend some of my favourite titles as well.”

“I don’t mind,” she answered. “What kind of books do you normally read, Gumo?” She thought he might be the kind who enjoyed romance novels or culinary books.

“All sorts. But recently, I’ve stumbled across several books about spells and magic rituals. I believe such tomes are called grimoires.” Gumo led her to a secluded corner next to a potted plant, the kind of spot that was perfect for reading without interruption. There was an elegant chaise longue here; she could imagine herself curling up on it with an interesting book in hand, sipping from a hot cup of tea. “Please make yourself comfortable here. I’ll be back shortly.”

She sat on the chaise longue, running her hand across the plush velvet seat – it was very soft, and she hummed to herself, reaching for the cushion lying beside her. The furniture in the palace was certainly of better quality than what she was used to.

The shelves in the library were very tall, almost twice her height. She wondered how Gumo would retrieve the books that were at the very top. Maybe they had a ladder in here somewhere. There was a peaceful, almost solemn quietness in this place, and as she waited for Gumo, she could feel her eyelids gradually beginning to droop.

“Cinderella!” She heard Gumo’s voice and her eyes flew open – he was walking towards her, a stack of thick, leather-bound books in his arms. They looked heavy, and she wondered how he could carry them so effortlessly. “I think this should be enough to answer any questions you might have about the Great Houses.” Gumo set the stack down beside her, and she noted that all the books he chose looked rather old. “And these two are the ones about magic! They’re quite entertaining as well.”

It wasn’t difficult to differentiate them. The two tomes Gumo had pointed out were the only ones with a red cover. The rest were black. “Are you going to read too?” she asked. “Maybe we could sit together if you don’t mind. That way I can ask you questions if there’s anything I don’t understand.” He paused, and something flitted across his face, but it was gone before she could identify it. Then he nodded.

He settled carefully on the seat beside her, taking a thinner book she hadn’t noticed earlier from the bottom of the pile. “It’s a cookbook,” he explained, his face turning slightly pink under her scrutiny. “His Highness enjoys desserts, so I must be well-versed in the various techniques used to make sweets.”

“Wouldn’t the kitchen make his desserts for him?” she asked. She didn’t know that a butler would have to know how to cook.

“They do, but it is difficult for them to keep up with His Highness' demands.” Gumo’s lips quirked up. “His Highness has two major weaknesses – alcohol and candy. If a day goes past without him consuming either one of them, his mood sours dramatically.”

As though he wasn’t already unpredictable enough most of the time. She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she said, and Gumo chuckled.

Gingerly, she reached for the first book in the pile. It wasn’t as thick as the rest. The leather binding was cracked in places, and when she opened the book, the pages were yellowed and brittle. She wondered how old it was. It didn’t even have a title.

The penmanship was elegant, though the ink had greyed a little. “Is this a diary?” she wondered aloud, and Gumo glanced up from his reading.

“Ah, that one. It belonged to someone from the Utatane family, a few generations ago. This is not a diary exactly, just some observations and letters.” He smiled. “The Utatanes are a family of historians. Their notes would be a good place for you to start.”

The Utatane family. She was reminded once again of the silver-haired viscount with the beautiful eyes, and she felt a shiver run through her. She murmured something in assent. Gumo went back to reading, and her gaze lingered on him. He relaxed a little as he immersed himself in his book, his gaze fixed intently on its pages – he looked so focused, and she couldn’t help but find him particularly attractive when he was like this.

But she hastily turned away, her face warming. The book lay open in her lap, and she flipped through the pages, wondering what to keep an eye out for. The author had scribbled short phrases at the top of certain pages, and as she looked through the book she came across a section that was titled _The Sins of the Four_.

Interesting. Perhaps this would be a good place to start. She looked through what the author had written – it was mostly things she already knew. The Great Houses referred to the four families that had helped to build this nation a long time ago. They established the monarchy and the systems of governance and also managed to secure their positions as the four most important families in the country.

The Sakine family was warlike, with strong soldiers and knights. They quickly grew in power because of their military might and were successfully able to consolidate the smaller territories around their land. They were a bloodthirsty family said to have ties with the powerful warlords of the East, and the fierce warrior tribes of the West.

The Kamui family specialised in far-range combat, with many of them being skilled archers and spies. They secured their position by gathering secrets and information about their enemies and assassinating those who plotted against them. They also offered their services to the remaining three families, who convened and decided it would be better to have the Kamuis on their side rather than against them.

She flipped the page and saw it was blank. She frowned. Then she noticed that the next few pages were missing. A quick look through the rest of the book revealed nothing. “Gumo. Someone tore out the pages here,” she said.

The butler’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice, a scandalised expression on his face. “Tore?” he asked, and he sounded incredibly offended. She would have found it amusing if she wasn’t so annoyed by the missing details. He reached for the book and she handed it over, wondering if he’d know what happened.

“They removed the pages about the Kagamine and Hatsune families,” he observed. “Let’s see whether the other books were treated the same way.”

Together, they went through the rest of the tomes Gumo had selected for her, and her heart sank – they were all the same. Information about the Sakine and Kamui families was left intact, but it was as though the other two families didn’t exist. The culprit was quite thorough too – she looked through some of the thicker books in the hopes that they had missed something, but no such luck. Gumo exhaled.

“Do you know who could have done this?” she asked. This was the palace library; it wasn’t a place people could easily access. It was strange that these books had been defiled in such a specific manner. The butler frowned, but he didn’t look surprised.

“I might have an idea. I cannot be sure, however.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Let me look at the history books again and see if there is anything with information about the other two families. In the meantime, perhaps you could read these?” He indicated the two red books he had suggested, the ones about the magic rituals.

She might as well since the books were already here. He gathered the tomes they had looked through and excused himself with another apologetic smile. She leant back into the chaise longue, picking up one of the grimoires – when she opened it, she was immediately greeted by the detailed illustration of an unfamiliar symbol.

It was a beautiful drawing, and she traced her finger over the foreign words that surrounded the symbol – she wasn’t sure if magic truly existed, but there was something undoubtedly otherworldly about this illustration.

 _Order and Religion: The Art of Summoning._ Certainly an interesting title. She turned the page and saw an index, then noticed that one of the chapters was about secret societies and cults. Immediately she thought back to what Piko had previously mentioned.

Would this book contain any information about the mysterious Order of Bethlehem? It didn’t hurt to check. She flipped to the page indicated on the index and skimmed through the chapter’s elaborate explanation of what cults were, and the purposes they served – she just wanted to know if the Order of Bethlehem was mentioned anywhere.

Nothing jumped out at her, but what she _did_ learn was that cults often summoned beings of the underworld to grant their wishes and dreams, or influence the past and the future. Powerful cults even kept these beings as pets, with individual members forming bonds with them so they would serve their needs. She shook her head at the thought, holding a page delicately between her fingers – there was no way to tell if any of this was true, but it sounded remarkably dangerous. Beings of the underworld…

What were those creatures like? She looked back at the index and saw that none of the chapters appeared to offer any explanation of what they were. Would the other book mention them? Her hand was reaching for the next book when she heard footsteps and saw Gumo coming back, this time empty-handed. “I apologise, Cinderella,” he said, his brow furrowed, “but it looks like all the relevant books we own have been dealt with in the same manner. However, if you would permit this, I could try to answer any questions you might have.”

All the books? She blinked – who on earth would have the ability to sneak into the palace library and vandalise all these books? And wouldn’t they have been caught, given how much time Gumo spent in the library? “You mentioned you might have an idea of who the culprit is, correct?” she asked.

He nodded. “Surely it is someone who lives in the palace. It cannot have been an outsider; we are too well-guarded for that. So, it becomes a question of who might have a reason to destroy information about the Kagamine and Hatsune families.”

“And who would?” she wondered, her mind spinning with thoughts. She ought to take a look at the library aisles later. She didn’t doubt Gumo’s thoroughness, but maybe there was _one_ book the perpetrator missed? If not she’d need to find alternative means to gather information. She sighed – if only she had taken an interest in the family affairs earlier. Then she wouldn’t be in this predicament now.

“I have some theories.” Another strange look flitted across Gumo’s face, but his lips curved into a genial smile and she wondered if she had simply imagined it. “If you require information about these two Great Houses, I will try my best to answer your questions.”

Gumo mentioned he had been raised in the palace. He had been in proximity to the king and noble families all his life; maybe he would know something that she didn’t. “Do you know how they came into power?” she asked, including the Kagamines so that her interest in her family wouldn’t be singled out. Gumo nodded.

“The Kagamines are a family of merchants, known for being shrewd and decisive. They hold immense influence – the Chamber of Commerce is said to be little more than a puppet organisation that bends to their will. The head of their family, Kagamine Leon, has been in power since he was fifteen. Rumours swirl about his involvement in the black market, and he is said to be the leader of a dangerous crime ring.”

She shuddered. That was one family she wouldn’t want to cross. “And what of the Hatsunes?” she asked. She was a little curious about the public perception of her family. She had studied the history of the other Great Houses, but her governess didn’t tell her much about the Hatsunes, having assumed that she knew all there was to know about her own family.

She didn’t, mostly because her father was not the most reliable tutor. Gumo cleared his throat. “The Hatsunes are said to be cursed,” he answered. “Every generation has at most two children, and their relatives are prone to disease and misfortune. But in the past, they were well-loved and regarded as a benefactor of the poor. Among the four Great Houses, they were the only ones who did not fight for power or the throne, which is why until now, there has not been a monarch of Hatsune descent.”

She already had some vague understanding of those details, so it didn’t interest her – she just wanted to find out about the family business. The Sakines were knights. The Kamuis were spies. The Kagamines were traders. So, what about her family? “Did they have some kind of speciality they were known for?”

“The Hatsune family?” Gumo considered. “No one knows. In later years the former head of their family, Hatsune Mikuo, dabbled in various activities, but only the deposed king knew what he was doing. By the time His Majesty ascended the throne, Hatsune Mikuo had passed away, and his widow does not report any trade earnings or activities to the crown. Rumour has it that they are running out of money.”

She struggled to keep her smile plastered on her face. This wasn’t just unhelpful – it was downright demoralising. But that wasn’t Gumo’s fault. “Thank you. What you shared was very interesting,” she said, and the butler nodded.

“I’m afraid it is almost time for me to check on His Highness, so I will have to leave you here for now. But I will be back later, so if you require any assistance, I will help you then.” He bowed, then glanced at the two grimoires still on the chaise longue. “Ah, before I forget – did you enjoy reading those?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

She liked how excited he was about her opinion. It made her feel like she belonged. Like they were friends, almost. It had been a while since she last felt this way, and thinking about that made her wistful. “It was interesting. I didn’t know you were curious about such things, Gumo.” It seemed like such an unorthodox topic.

“Well, I’ve read most of the books here, especially the ones about strategy, politics and philosophy,” Gumo answered. She was surprised by the casual way he talked about these topics – did he not find them difficult? “I thought it was time for a change, so I started looking in different aisles and found these grimoires. It’s quite different from what I’m used to, but they’re fascinating nevertheless.”

“Fascinating indeed.” He smiled at her response. “Perhaps next time we can share what books we’ve read before? Your list must contain quite a variety.”

“If you so wish, Cinderella.” He bade her farewell before he turned and left the library. She watched him until she could no longer see his figure among the aisles, then she turned towards the two grimoires, wondering if she ought to read them or try to search for other clues about her family’s history.

Gumo might be disappointed if he knew that she didn’t finish reading the books he recommended, but she wasn’t exactly here to make friends, was she? She was here to save herself. Shaking her head, she rose from the chaise longue and slipped over to the aisles, wondering which shelves she ought to search first.

Glancing at the clock near the entrance of the library, she saw it was mid-afternoon now. There were two more hours until the sun began to set. She’d have to make good use of these hours, then – hopefully she could find something of use before dinnertime.


	15. Chapter 15

The words on the page were blurring together, and he sighed, putting the letter down. He couldn’t concentrate today, and it was getting on his nerves.

It wasn’t that he was shaken by the memories Cinderella brought up. It wasn’t. But when he closed his eyes all he could see was cold, dead skin and eyes that stared blankly into nothing, and red. Red everywhere. His grip on his pen tightened.

There was a knock on his door, and he flinched, jolted out of his thoughts. “Your Highness,” Gumo said, entering his study with a tray in his hands – Len exhaled, relieved that it was his butler and not one of the other servants. Around his butler, he didn’t need to pretend he was fine. “It’s your break time, as scheduled. How is your work?” Gumo placed the tray with the teapot and the sugar cubes on his desk.

“Great,” he answered. Not exactly. But he had managed to look through the documents that _had_ to be submitted by today, so the rest could wait. “Help me decline this pile of invitations, then give this note to my father. It’s from the High Council.”

“Is it about the request to dissolve the Hatsune dukedom?” Gumo asked, his eyes alight with curiosity. Len shook his head, though he frowned at the mention of that movement – there was an increasing number of aristocrats calling for the Dowager Duchess to give up her peerage, using the decline of the Hatsune family and their rumoured lack of money as justification for why she shouldn’t retain the dukedom.

“Some of the nobles have suggested an expedition to find an easier trade route to the East. The proposal requires approval from the monarch before it can pass.” He yawned and stretched, feeling the strain in his shoulders – he was glad that Gumo came in when he did. He needed a break. “How’s my fiancée doing?” he asked.

“She’s reading in the library.” Gumo smiled. “She’s quite interested in our history, especially that of the Four Great Houses. We found something strange, though.” His butler’s expression didn’t change and his tone stayed light, but Len stiffened, suddenly sensing what was about to come. “All the books I retrieved for her were missing the pages describing the history of the Kagamine and Hatsune families.”

“That is indeed mysterious.” Len reached for his tea and took a sip. It was cold, but he swallowed anyway. “Who would dare to defile any of the books in the library?”

“I wonder as well.” Gumo was still smiling placidly, but Len could sense the tension that simmered underneath the calm exterior, and he was abruptly reminded of why all the palace servants feared Gumo, despite his outward cordiality. “I understand you have a busy schedule, Your Highness, so perhaps things slip your mind at times. Is there anything you might have forgotten to mention to your humble servant?”

Given a choice between facing either of the Nakajima twins when they were angry, he’d pick Gumi in a heartbeat. Gumo had a quiet kind of rage that was absolutely terrifying and the fact that he could keep on _smiling_ when he was clearly seething just made it worse. He knew better than to lie. “Fine. It was me,” he admitted.

“And may I ask why?” Betrayal flashed through Gumo’s eyes, but the threatening aura receded a little, and Len exhaled in relief.

“It was a while ago,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice earlier. If you recall, a year ago Leon visited the palace…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. Realisation dawned on Gumo’s face, but he continued anyway. “I didn’t want to be reminded of my past. And I was drunk. I don’t even know how I managed to do it, but…I ripped out all the pages about the Kagamine family and threw them into the fireplace. Then I tried to forget about what I had done. I still feel bad about it.”

“And the pages about the Hatsune family just happened to be collateral damage?” Gumo asked. There was sympathy in his eyes. Len averted his gaze. He preferred it when his butler was mad. He was more used to dealing with rage and suspicion.

He hated being pitied. He’d seen enough of such looks in the first year he became the prince. _He tried to kill himself. Poor child. What if he tries to do it again?_ His lip curled at the memory. “No. It was deliberate.” There was a finality in his tone that his butler thankfully did not challenge. “Make up some excuse if she asks. Don’t let her know I’m the one who destroyed those pages. I don’t want her to know.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Gumo bowed his head. “I wish you’d told me before I had to find out this way, though,” he mumbled, and Len gave him an apologetic look. “I will tell her that the Utatane family evaluated our books and found mistakes in those particular pages. That should be sufficient explanation to convince a foreigner.”

“Do you really think she’s a foreigner, though?” Len asked, twirling his pen around his fingers. Gumo blinked, and he shrugged, allowing his gaze to drift as he spoke. “I've always wondered. She doesn’t have an accent. And you saw how filthy she was this morning – I found her locked in the cellar, of all places. That’s not how people treat their family members.” He paused. “She probably _does_ have some connection with the Hatsune family, but I don’t believe for a second that she’s the Dowager Duchess' niece from Blousia.”

“Who do you suspect she is then, Your Highness?” Gumo asked. “I must admit, I’m quite curious about why you suddenly proposed to her. You were adamant about not taking a bride. And given your personality, I doubt it was love at first sight.”

“Are you trying to imply something about my character?” he retorted. Gumo didn’t answer, though he did raise an eyebrow – Len let it go. His butler was only like this when there was no one around them, and even if sometimes he said things that made Len uncomfortable, he appreciated his frankness.

“His Majesty thinks she might be the supposedly dead daughter of Hatsune Mikuo. I am helping him to investigate since she is so reluctant to reveal her true identity. Claiming that her name is Cinderella? Who is she trying to fool?” Len took another sip of his tea and remembered too late that it was cold. He spat it out this time.

“Let me replace that for you.” Gumo strode over to his desk and promptly dumped the cup of tea outside the window. “She does remind me of the former head, now that you mention it. They have the same hair and eyes,” he mused, pouring another cup of tea and stirring in a cube of sugar. He handed the cup to Len, but Len simply stared at it until Gumo sighed and put in another cube. “Your addiction to sweets is going to bankrupt the palace one day,” he muttered. Len happily ignored him.

When he took a sip of the steaming hot tea, he sighed, some tension leaving his body at the soothing, familiar taste. Gumo had brewed chamomile tea today. “Have you spoken to Hatsune Mikuo before?” he asked, licking his lips and placing the cup back on the table. Gumo nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.

“He came to the palace often when the previous king ruled. He also visited during the coup to ensure that the palace servants were doing well. He was a kind-hearted man.” His butler frowned. “But didn’t both father and daughter perish in a fire?”

Len shrugged. “Maybe someone just wants us to think that way.” But why? Who would stand to benefit if Hatsune Miku was dead? The Dowager Duchess would naturally become the head of the family once her husband died, so there wasn’t any point to pretending her stepdaughter had passed on as well, was there?

But if not her, then who? The Dowager Duchess was the one who first confirmed their deaths. Maybe he should have brought this up when he visited the Hatsune manor. “Getting rid of Hatsune Miku wouldn’t benefit anyone,” his butler agreed, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Only she can inherit the family’s fortune once the Dowager Duchess passes on. Otherwise, their possessions just get returned to the crown, no?”

“Correct. Their land and wealth will be redistributed among the other dukes if my father so wishes.” Len absentmindedly reached for another sugar cube, but Gumo smacked his hand away. “Unless there’s some obscure law that states otherwise. It seems unlikely, though – other nobles would have already exploited this loophole if it existed.”

“Interesting.” Gumo paused for a moment, then shook his head and picked up the tray. “Nevertheless, Your Highness, please don’t get distracted. It’s about time for you to return to work,” he reminded, taking out a golden pocket watch.

Len groaned. “Can I not? I want to take a nap,” he complained, picking up his pen. His butler gave him a warning look, and Len grudgingly reached for one of the many papers scattered across his deck. “When’s my next public engagement?”

“The day after, Your Highness. Your presence has been requested at the opening of the new chapel,” Gumo answered. Len exhaled. The Church. Another day where he’d have to dress up in full royal garb. People thought being a prince just meant wearing fancy clothes and waving at the public, but honestly, even that was _exhausting_.

“All right. Thank you for reminding me. You may leave now.” Gumo hesitated, and Len resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m done with the important things, I swear. Look, it’s confusing me – half the time you want me to stop working so much, and the other half you think I’m not working hard enough. Make up your mind, Gumo.”

Gumo’s lips quirked up. “I know when you’re serious about your work and when you are not, Your Highness. You’re obviously not in the mood to focus on paperwork at the moment.” He shook his head. “If you wanted to spend time with your fiancée, you could have simply said so. We can always help to rearrange your schedule.”

“Who said anything about spending time with her?” he countered, narrowing his eyes at his butler. Gumo smiled innocently back at him. “Leaving the palace just made me restless. It has nothing to do with her. Anyway, shouldn’t you be going back to the library? You need to explain the missing pages to her, don’t you?”

Gumo nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.” With a bow, the butler backed out of the study. The moment the door closed, Len put his pen down, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Finally, some peace. Some time to _think_.

Once in a while, he wished he didn’t have to be the prince. The life of royalty was restrictive in so many ways. He always had to watch what he was doing – he could do no wrong in the public eye because every gesture, every word, reflected on his father and his country. It was a life bound by rules and regulations, with his every waking moment planned and followed to the letter.

He rarely did anything of his own accord. He didn’t desire much, after all – he was busy most of the time, and part of him still didn’t feel like he deserved any chance to live, not after Rin’s death. But Cinderella…this was the first time in a long while that he felt motivated to do _anything_. Maybe he ought to be grateful to her?

As if in response to his traitorous thoughts, yet another memory of blank blue eyes and splatters of vivid crimson floated across his mind. His shoulders hunched and his eyes flicked wide open – suddenly, he couldn’t remember how to breathe, and he could feel himself suffocating, his hand reaching up to his throat as he struggled to regain control of his body. _No. Not this again. Don’t think about it. Think about something else, anything else_. His eyes were stinging, and his lungs burned –

As quickly as it came, the feeling passed and he was left feeling drained, his fingers still wrapped around his neck. He was panting. _Her_ last moments, branded into his mind for all eternity. This pain was a bittersweet reminder of their bond – even in death, he couldn’t let go of her. Rin haunted him, surfacing whenever he seemed at risk of forgetting what they once shared. Forgetting what his actions had resulted in.

“I need to stop wondering about foolish things,” he mumbled, his hand dropping to the desk. _My fault, my fault, my fault_. “I need…I need to get back to work.”

* * *

Miku read until she felt her stomach growl – when she looked up at the clock, she realised that it was now evening, and soon it would be time for dinner.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned, wincing as she stretched. Now that she was no longer distracted by her books, she could feel just how stiff her shoulders were from sitting in the same position all afternoon. “I need to go take a walk,” she mumbled, pressing her hand against her neck. Should she look for Gumo? Or Romeo?

Gumo had come back into the library earlier, telling her that he had asked around and found out that the missing pages were being subjected to a review by the Utatane family. She found it a little strange since one of the books affected _was_ written by the Utatanes, but in the end, she decided not to question him.

Then a while later, the butler said that he had to run some errands for his sister, and Miku had been alone in the library ever since. She glanced down at the heavy book on her lap, yawning again – this was the driest account of the country’s history she had ever read, and even after struggling through a few chapters, she didn’t manage to find anything useful.

Her stomach growled again, and she stared at it, frowning. “You didn’t have lunch that long ago,” she said, and of course there was no reply. She sighed, briefly considering ignoring her body in favour of spending more time in the library, but ultimately, she decided not to risk her stomach mutinying. Picking up the books she had left on the chaise longue, she began to put them back on the shelves, thankful that she could still remember where she had taken most of them from.

By the time she was done, it was half-past six and she thought it was about time for her to go to the dining hall. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make her way there on her own – but never try, never know, right? Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the library and closed her eyes, trying to recall the route she had taken.

She was pretty certain she was heading in the right direction until she reached the stairs and found that she couldn’t remember which floor the dining hall was on. So, she simply stood there, pondering and hoping that one of the servants might pass by and help her out of her predicament. A few minutes later, she heard someone cough.

“What are you doing?” It was a familiar voice filled with amusement, and she turned to see Romeo staring at her, his lips curved into a grin.

“I was trying to recall the way to the dining hall,” she answered, studying his face – now that she took a closer look, his smile seemed plastered on, and she wondered if she should ask. She recognised the exhaustion that he couldn’t entirely hide in his blue eyes. It was a feeling that was all too familiar. “Are you…are you okay?”

“Me?” He blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” But she didn’t miss the way his gaze flitted away for a fraction of a second before he glanced back at her, the smile on his face widening slightly. “I’m more concerned about _you_ not being able to find the dining hall. It shouldn’t be that hard – it’s right down the hallway from the library.”

“Ah.” She turned away from the staircase, feeling a little embarrassed, and he took her hand with a chuckle, his fingers intertwined with hers. “Well, this palace is huge, as you know. I’ve never had so much space to move around in before.”

“Then you shouldn’t wander around on your own until you’re more familiar with this building. And shouldn’t Gumo be with you?” he asked, casting her a curious look.

“He said he had errands to run…” She clutched his hand as they headed down the hallway towards the dining hall. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, and they spent the rest of their walk in silence. His skin was warm against hers.

Dinner was a quick and simple affair. The king didn’t join them – Gumi explained that he had some urgent matters to attend to, and he would join them another time. They ate quietly, Miku happily savouring yet another delicious bowl of soup. The main dish for tonight was a seared cod fillet and garden vegetables, and they ended the meal with a refreshing glass of lemonade. As the servants removed their plates from the table, he cleared his throat, catching her attention. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I don’t have anything in mind,” she answered. She had entertained the thought of returning to the library, but then after such a pleasant meal, she knew it would be difficult for her to concentrate on anything. He nodded at her reply, his expression thoughtful.

“Let’s get the royal tailor to come and measure you, then. Since you will be assisting me with my work, you should obtain clothes that befit your status.” His gaze lingered on her servant’s uniform, making her feel a little self-conscious.

“I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing. It’s a decent dress. And anyway, we just ate. It might not be appropriate to have my measurements taken now,” she answered. It wasn’t that she minded getting new clothes, but…she wasn’t exactly in the mood to let a stranger touch her right now. It had been a long day, and she was tired.

“Isn’t that better for you? Then when you wear your new dresses, they’d be able to accommodate your after-meal stomach,” he quipped. He looked far too entertained for her liking. What was he trying to imply? She frowned at him and opened her mouth to retort, but then Gumi cleared her throat.

“Pardon my interruption, Your Highness, but His Highness is not wrong. Given his busy schedule for the coming week, there is a very real possibility you might have to join him at his public engagements. The next one is the day after tomorrow; you must be prepared to face scrutiny from the other nobles, and your current dress simply will not pass. We should have the fitting now so the tailor can get an outfit ready in time.”

The day after tomorrow? That was too soon, surely. She swallowed, looking at Gumi with a plea in her eyes, but the head servant shook her head, her gaze stern. She let out a sigh. “Fine. Very well. I consent to have my measurements taken tonight.”

Romeo nodded. “Gumi, please summon Cul to the palace – ask her to come as soon as she can. It’s an urgent request, so we can pay her more for her troubles.”

Gumi bowed and left the dining hall, and Miku exhaled, leaning against the back of her chair. “So, what’s this event that I might have to attend?”

“The Church is opening a new chapel. Normally, they’d invite His Majesty to give his blessings, but recently His Majesty has been rather busy, so they’re asking me to participate in his place.” He paused. “It’s not anything too difficult. You just have to smile and wave at the masses. Then we’ll get anointed with holy water at the end of the opening ceremony. But you _do_ have to look the part of the princess…”

“I see.” True, it didn’t sound tough. Though she was hesitant about being called a princess – they weren’t married yet, after all. “How often do you have to…?”

“Attend such events?” he supplied. She nodded, and he shrugged. “Around once a week. Then there is the multitude of balls held by the aristocrats as well. I try to avoid those as much as I can, but it’s impossible to get out of all of them. You’ll get there eventually.”

She wasn’t looking forward to this. It just sounded like it was going to eat into what precious time she had for herself. “Do you ever have any free time?”

He chuckled, though again she glimpsed the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes, an emotion that she found disturbingly familiar. It wasn’t physical tiredness. Once upon a time she had looked into a mirror and seen that very same expression on her face.

“Well, I can take breaks if Gumo scheduled any for me.” His lips curved upwards. “Are you afraid, Cinderella? Do you regret your decision?” His tone was neutral, but she could sense the unspoken challenge behind his words, and she pressed her lips together, sitting up in her chair. She wouldn’t back down just because of a challenge or two.

“Far from it, Romeo. I think this is quite exciting. I’m looking forward to my royal duties tomorrow,” she answered. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, but he didn’t say a word, and she could practically _feel_ him studying her.

Before either of them said anything more, Gumi came back into the dining hall. There was a petite woman with bright red hair done up in a ponytail following her. “Cul happened to be in the area, so she agreed to drop by,” Gumi explained. “Your Highness, this is the royal tailor – she will help to take your measurements tonight,” she added.

Miku rose from her chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and Cul grinned.

“Nice to meet you too, Your Highness! My, oh my. I heard you were a beauty, and it seems like the rumours weren't wrong.” Cul whistled as she circled Miku, making her feel vaguely uncomfortable. “I can already envision which designs would best suit you…ah, yes! Now I just need to take your measurements,” she declared, reaching out to grab Miku’s wrist.

She blinked, startled by the casual contact, but no one said anything as the tailor dragged her out of the dining hall, marching down the hallway. “Once we get your measurements taken, I’ll be able to churn out something for you!” Cul chirped. “Gumi said you need an outfit by the day after. For a church event, correct? I’m so excited – I’ve always wanted to make something gorgeous for a beautiful lady!”

Cul’s energy was unlike anything Miku had ever seen before. The tailor chattered away incessantly, and Miku looked helplessly over her shoulder – he stuck his head out of the dining hall, waving at her, and she was pretty sure she didn’t mistake the mischievous grin on his face. She scowled back at him, tuning Cul out as she started rambling about Eastern dress styles and how she was going to incorporate their features into her proposed design – Romeo had expected this to happen, hadn’t he?

How dare he make fun of her like this. She’d have to think of a way to get back at him later.


	16. Chapter 16

Miku stood still, holding her hands out as Cul took her measurements. The tailor was bright and chipper, humming merrily as she looped her tape around Miku’s waist.

“How long have you been the royal family’s tailor?” she asked, already bored of waiting. Cul glanced up at her, taking note of Miku’s waist size before she pulled the tape away.

“Slightly more than two years. I was hired a few months after His Highness was brought into the palace.” Cul grinned, now holding her tape against Miku’s legs. “You have something you wish to know about him, Your Highness?”

Was she that obvious? Or maybe Cul was just perceptive. “I was just wondering if you knew his real name,” she admitted. It didn’t look like Cul lived in the palace, so perhaps she wasn’t subject to Romeo's orders to keep his true name confidential.

“Oh, Gumi said that I’m not allowed to tell you, sorry!” she trilled. Miku sighed – well, it had been worth a shot. “Anyway, does it even matter what his real name is? After all, Romeo sounds so romantic…it's quite fun to design clothes that match his nickname.”

“You design all his clothes?” She hadn’t expected that. Of course, she figured that the royal tailor must be extremely talented, but Cul was so carefree and easy-going that she couldn’t imagine her sitting down to work on anything particularly outstanding. Yet she recalled the outfits Romeo had worn to the ball – minimalistic with understated, subtle grace and an attention to detail that seemed completely at odds with the redhead standing before her.

“Well, I _am_ the royal tailor!” Cul took down the length of her legs, rising to walk around her – Miku then felt her press her measuring tape against her back. “Which means I’m the one designing all his clothes, of course. And I will design yours too! I have so many ideas…”

“You don’t stay in the palace?” She lowered her arms, obediently twisting up her hair and pushing it to one side so that Cul could measure her neck. “Travelling here must be quite inconvenient, especially if you’re summoned at strange hours,” she added.

Cul giggled. “Are you concerned about my welfare, Your Highness? My, I’m honoured.” She fell silent for a moment, then suddenly she sighed, moving her measuring tape so that it rested on her shoulders. “It is a privilege to work for the royal family.”

“But?” she probed. She could hear the reluctance in her voice, and that made her curious. Cul hesitated, clearly thinking about whether or not she should say anything more.

“There are standards you have to meet to design clothes for the royal family,” she finally answered, winding her measuring tape around her fingers. “Many tailors aspire to serve them. But the path one must take for that is…arduous, to say the least.”

Miku could only imagine. “What kind of standards do you have to meet?”

“Ah, your work must have gained some kind of national or regional recognition before you have a chance at getting noticed by the royal family. Competition tends to be stiff.”

Cul sounded distant, her gaze fixed on something in the distance as she pocketed her tape. Miku wondered what she was thinking about. It was strange to see the voracious redhead looking so pensive. “Did you know the previous royal tailor?” she asked, attempting to ease the tension that lingered in the air. Cul nodded, her gaze flicking back to meet hers.

“I wonder what happened to him, though. I was only asked to be the royal tailor because he –” She paused, concern suddenly flashing through her eyes. Then she shook her head. “Oh, thank you for allowing me to take your measurements, Your Highness!”

Abruptly the tailor was beaming again, as though their earlier conversation had never taken place. Miku blinked. “Oh, uh, you’re welcome. But weren’t you about to tell me about…?”

“Oh, it was nothing. Nothing, really.” Cul waved her hands dismissively. “Just a silly story. An old rumour, you know what those are like.” She shook her head again. “I’ll get right to work – you can expect to see your dress by the end of tomorrow. Have a good night and rest well!”

Cul gave her a quick bow and dashed over to the door, letting herself out. Miku gaped after her, wondering what the tailor had been about to tell her. For a moment, she had looked almost afraid. But before she could think for too long, there was a knock on the door and Gumi poked her head in, her gaze landing upon her. “How was the fitting, Your Highness?”

“Everything went well,” Miku answered, still musing over Cul’s strange behaviour. “Is there anything else that I must do? Or am I allowed to retire for the night?” The fitting had taken some time, and she was beginning to feel a little tired.

But then she remembered that she was supposed to share a room with Romeo, and she tensed. Her heart thumped in her chest. Gumi nodded. “There are no other activities lined up in your schedule tonight, Your Highness. Shall I show you the way back to your room?”

“Yes, please. That would be helpful.” Miku paused. “Is Romeo already in his room, or is he still working?” Maybe it would be less awkward for her if she fell asleep before he returned.

“He has retired for the night. His Highness does not work after dinner – not unless it is a matter of significant national importance.” Gumi held the door open, and Miku hesitantly stepped into the hallway, unsure about where to go next. This palace was a maze, and she was concerned about whether or not she would ever be able to navigate the building on her own.

Gumi led her back to Romeo's room – it didn’t take long before they were standing right outside the door, and Gumi was leaving with a polite word of farewell. Miku sighed, closing her eyes as she reached towards the door, her hand poised to knock. It didn’t feel right to just barge in, even if she was staying here now.

A moment later, Romeo called for her to come in and she twisted the doorknob, taking slow, deliberate steps into his room. The first thing she saw was him unbuttoning his shirt and she immediately averted her gaze, her cheeks warming at the sight of his exposed skin. He was standing in front of the mirror with his back facing her, his shirt hanging halfway off him – he laughed, amused by her embarrassment, and she promptly turned away.

“What sort of fiancée is unable to look at her lover without his shirt on?” he teased, but she held her tongue and refused to answer. Suddenly she felt slender fingers rest on her shoulder and she stiffened – his breath ghosted against her ear as he leant in, and she realised his face was dangerously close to hers. “Does being with me embarrass you?”

“No. It’s not that.” Her voice quivered. “What kind of person decides to let someone enter their room while they’re midway through undressing? Do you have no shame?”

“Only Gumi, Gumo or my father would call on me at this hour. None of them would be particularly concerned even if they walked in on me changing.” His voice softened. “But if you are uncomfortable with this then I promise to give you some warning next time.”

She exhaled. “I’m not – I won’t say that I'm _uncomfortable_. I was just surprised, that's all.” She finally dared to peek behind her and noticed with relief that Romeo was now dressed. The memory of his bare skin flustered her a little – she had never seen a man shirtless before.

Her gaze flicked up, meeting his, and she saw humour dancing in his eyes, a small smile on his face. “Your propriety is refreshing. It makes me want to tease you…I’d like to see how far you can be pushed before you snap.” He chuckled as she quickly turned away again, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. She’d like to retort, to tell him that she could put up with any game he was intending to play, but when it came to intimacy she knew she was a complete novice and she didn’t want to embarrass herself. It was probably better to just keep quiet.

He removed his hand from her shoulder, and instinctively she exhaled, the tension dissipating now that he was no longer so close to her. “Gumi stopped by earlier. She left a nightdress for you on the dresser. Why don’t you get ready for the night?” he suggested, and she gladly seized the opportunity to put some distance between them, grabbing the nightdress and going into the other room to change. She made sure to keep her gaze firmly off him.

Once she was inside the bathing chamber, she sighed, clutching the nightdress to her chest. It was a simple, plain white dress, soft cotton that covered her from her shoulders to her knees – a far cry from the revealing negligee she was given this afternoon, and for that she was grateful. She rubbed the material between her fingers, her thoughts wandering.

Sharing a bed. She didn’t even want to think about it, but the knowledge that she _had_ to – that she was his betrothed, that she had to get used to these things since eventually they would be married – loomed over her like a frightening beast and made her stomach churn. “It’s just…it’s just a bed, right?” she reasoned, keeping her voice low. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

She looked into the mirror, squinting at her reflection, hoping to see some sense of conviction in her eyes. But she looked nervous. Almost afraid. Her fingers tightened on the nightdress and at that moment she wished she wasn’t so cautious about what was to come, that she could act like she was perfectly comfortable around him, that she wasn’t flustered at all by his proximity.

“This was what I signed up for.” She watched her lips move in the mirror. Even though she was an adult, at this moment she thought she looked like a child, inexperienced and unknowing. “I can do this without overthinking things.” And she would have to, whether she liked it or not.

Her traitorous mind suddenly jumped to that image of Romeo shrugging off his shirt, the lean lines of his exposed shoulders illuminated softly by the moonlight that streamed through the window, how the full-length mirror he stood in front of revealed smooth, unblemished skin and a broad chest that tapered into a narrow, defined waist.

She immediately buried her face in the nightdress, exasperated by her embarrassment – he was a beautiful man, but at the end of the day, that was all he was. A man. Another human being just like her. Skin was nothing more than skin; there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Taking a deep breath, she looked resolutely into the mirror and nodded, her hands reaching up to undo the buttons of her uniform. Her feelings would not get in the way of her goals and ambitions. If she had to get used to such gratuitous displays of skin, if she had to abandon her chastity and the values her mother had instilled in her since she was a child, then so be it.

* * *

Len was running his fingers through his hair, trying to shake out the blond locks. If there was one thing he hated about long hair, it was how much effort it took to maintain it.

He didn’t let his hair grow beyond his shoulders for this reason, and he could never fathom how Gakupo was able to put up with _his_ hair without wanting to chop it all off. If it weren't for personal reasons, Len would gladly keep his hair short, the same way it was before he became the prince. But remembering what he looked like in the past made him feel a little ill.

The door of the bathing chamber opened then, and he looked up, his gaze drawn towards the girl stepping shyly into the room – his first thought was that Cinderella looked like she’d rather be anywhere in the world but here, and his lips crooked up.

“You almost look like you’re in pain,” he observed, and her green eyes narrowed at him, though her fingers continued to fiddle with her long hair. A sign of nervousness?

“I think about having to sleep with someone and that causes me concern. I’m too used to not having to share my space. Or my blankets,” she answered, and he chuckled, unable to help himself. It was remarkable that she could be her usual feisty self when she hadn’t even known what to say when she saw him undressing. “I’d like the right side of the bed, please.”

“That’s fine,” he hummed. “I normally sleep on the left side anyway.” She hesitated, and he didn’t miss the sheen of panic in her eyes, though she blinked it away almost the moment it appeared. “Come here? We have a long day tomorrow.” He softened his voice, not wanting it to sound like an order, and to his surprise she approached, her gait slow and cautious.

He studied her, this girl who was his fiancée now, and a strange feeling bloomed in his chest – it wasn’t affection, that much he knew, but it wasn’t the acrid sting of guilt and betrayal either. She looked ethereal in pure white, the colour of the dress several shades lighter than her fair skin, and her teal hair tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders. She was beautiful; that much was impossible to deny. The little pink flush on her face made it difficult not to provoke her, but he decided that might be better saved for the morning.

Maybe he would have fallen in love with her, were it not for the chains that wrapped so tightly around his broken heart. “Did you ever think you’d marry into royalty?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t think too much about my future when I first arrived here,” she admitted. “I just wanted to…find a place where I belonged. And make my family proud.”

Her gaze was soft, and her words earnest. “I see. I suppose you must have done that much, at least.” He reached towards one of the lamps that lit his room, deciding it was about time to put them out. “But you must have some kind of goal now that you’re here, no?”

“I haven’t thought too much about that either.” Her hands were clasped before her, and she met his gaze levelly – it was almost enough to convince him that he was overthinking things, that she genuinely was no more than a girl trying to find her place in the world – but he thought about his father’s words and remembered that it was foolish to take things at face value. “I just…I want to find a place to call home. I think that’s my deepest desire.”

“You can find it here, then.” He put out the lamp and the room dimmed, the only other light being the lamp next to the window. The flames flickered, throwing long shadows across her face. “Help me extinguish that one?” he said, and she did as he asked, walking over to the window – a few seconds later the room darkened and he could barely make out her silhouette, shrouded as it was in shadow. “Come to bed. You’ll need the rest to get through tomorrow.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “You make it sound like there’s a _lot_ of work waiting for me. I’m a little nervous, to tell the truth.” She climbed onto the bed as she spoke, burrowing beneath the covers; he took his time drawing closer, and she turned away so that her back faced him. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound, right? You’re just trying to scare me.”

He raised an eyebrow, though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see his face. “And pray tell, why would I do that?” he answered. She didn’t reply, though he could practically sense the tension in her body – she was radiating nervous energy, and he wondered how she would react if he chose to touch her now. She might jump out of the bed in shock. “Are you in need of more time for yourself, perhaps? But why? It’s not like you have anything to do…”

The resounding silence was almost suffocating, but she still chose not to answer. He smiled, a tired sigh escaping his lips. “If you need time, Gumo or Gumi should be able to factor that into your schedule. But you’ll need a reason, of course. We can’t have the future princess being completely unaware of how to run a kingdom. And this is meant to help you learn, as much as it is meant to occupy your time. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she muttered. “You underestimate me if you think I only came here in pursuit of fun and games. I’d just like some time to devote to exploring the library.”

“Hm, you like to read, don’t you?” he murmured. Rin had liked to read, too. He used to laugh at the mention of it, teasing her about those sappy romance novels she enjoyed so much – his throat constricted, and he slapped his hand to his neck, taking a deep breath. Not now.

Cinderella turned to stare at him when he hit himself, and he could see her eyes in the dim light, wide and curious. “I thought I heard an insect,” he lied. Though she didn’t respond, to his surprise, she didn’t turn away either. “Gumo must have been pleased to discover he has a new reading partner. He’s the only one in the palace who cares at all for the library,” he continued. “Perhaps you could do your work in the library for now. I doubt anyone would have an opinion on that, so long as you don’t leave a mess in there.”

“Perhaps,” she echoed. Her voice was quiet. Silence fell between them, and after a while, he thought she must have gone to sleep – he closed his eyes, though he knew unconsciousness wouldn’t come to him so quickly. He had always found it difficult to fall asleep, and now he was so painfully aware of Cinderella’s presence that it would be a miracle if he could get even an hour’s worth of rest. He turned onto his side, trying to make himself comfortable.

“Romeo?” Her voice was muffled, and he stilled, his eyes opening so that he was looking at her. She was facing him, but she had retreated so deep underneath the blankets that he could just barely make out her forehead. “You seem very restless. Can’t sleep?”

“I have insomnia,” he admitted. And on the rare occasion that he was able to fall asleep without any difficulties, his fears and his hatred would haunt his nightmares, leaving him exhausted the next morning. “I apologise if that’s disrupting your ability to sleep. Would you like me to…?”

He wasn’t even sure what he had been about to offer. But if she was his fiancée and he was meant to make her fall in love; if he wanted her to confess the secrets that she had bottled up in those pretty eyes of hers, then he should begin by wooing her with his selflessness. Even if it _was_ nothing more than a façade.

But she cut him off. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking…I can share with you something my mother used to do when I couldn’t sleep at night.” She hesitated for a moment, then stuck her head out from beneath the blanket. “Give me your hand.”

Surprised but curious, he placed his hand in hers, and her fingers curled over his palm – in a gentle, soothing voice, she began to hum a mysterious lullaby while her other hand traced shapes over his palm. At first, he paid attention to the outlines she drew, trying to figure out what the symbols represented, but after a while, he realised that they probably didn’t mean anything. Sometimes she traced a letter. Sometimes a shape. Sometimes a number.

But he couldn’t deny that the feeling of her index finger sliding across his skin was soothing in its own way – combined with her soft, melodious voice, he found his eyelids lowering as drowsiness washed over him, the allure of sleep drawing him in faster than it ever had before. Such a simple trick, he marvelled – but it succeeded where his doctors had not.

“Thank you,” he managed to whisper. Those two words lingered in his mind even when everything else blanked out, and the only sensation he remembered was the feeling of her warm hand holding his, her gentle voice beckoning him to dreamless slumber.


	17. Chapter 17

Miku woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air. She thought she smelled fire and ash, the scent of flesh and wood charring. Orange flames licked the sky, sending sparks up towards the heavens – but then she blinked, her surroundings swimming back into view.

Moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains, gently illuminating the desk. It took a while for her to remember where she was, but then the realisation sank in – she was in the palace now. In Romeo's room. There was no need to worry about her nightmares anymore.

She looked around, wondering whether she ought to try and fall asleep again. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her blood roaring in her ears. When she closed her eyes, she could still smell the acrid stench of smoke curling all around her, and she shuddered.

Perhaps she ought to read a book instead. That might help to soothe her frazzled nerves.

She shifted her weight, intending to slip out of bed, but then Romeo let out a quiet groan and turned, his hand reaching towards her. She paused, studying his face as his fingers wrapped around her wrist – it _looked_ like he was asleep, though she couldn’t be sure. She tried to pull her hand away, but he made a sound of dissatisfaction and refused to let go.

His brow was furrowed, and she thought back to the exhaustion she’d seen lingering in his face, hiding behind his smile. She hesitated. Part of her knew that she shouldn’t care; he was little more than a stranger to her, even if they _were_ engaged. But her heart went out to him all the same. She understood what it was like to be tormented by one’s nightmares.

Cautiously, she lifted her other hand and placed it on his. He mumbled something, and she leant closer, trying to figure out what he was saying. “Rin…” A girl’s name. His dead fiancée? He moaned, a sound of pain, and she watched him, trying to figure out what to do next. Should she attempt to comfort him? Or should she leave him to fight his own battles?

Letting go of his hand, she brushed his hair away from his eyes, and he relaxed at her touch, his forehead smoothing out. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. “I hope you rest well.”

* * *

It had been a long time since he last woke up feeling refreshed.

Gumi swept into his room as she did every morning, whipping open the curtains and shaking him awake. The aroma of tea and freshly-baked croissants filled the room, and he opened his eyes to witness Gumi pouring fresh milk into a teacup. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Am I?” he asked, reaching for the croissant she had left on his bed cabinet. “I don’t feel any different.” He looked around as he bit into the pastry, and that was when he noticed that his fiancée wasn’t in bed with him. “Hm. Have you seen Cinderella?”

“She’s in the library,” Gumi answered, setting the teacup down next to his empty plate. “She looked rather tired when I saw her just now. Did she not sleep well?”

“Is that so?” He’d slept throughout the night for once, so he had no idea. “I’ll ask her about it later. Perhaps the bed was not to her liking.” He took a sip of Gumi’s tea, trying not to let his distaste show – Gumi was far stricter than her brother when it came to his sugar intake. “I wonder if she’s eaten,” he added, putting the tea aside.

"I believe so. Gumo would not have allowed her to roam around on an empty stomach.” Gumi took a shirt and a pair of trousers out of his closet, placing them neatly beside him. “It seems like you care about her, Your Highness,” she added, her gaze flicking up to meet his.

He paused, about to finish the last bit of his croissant. “Care about her?” Gumi nodded, her green eyes filled with curiosity, and he put the pastry down as he thought over her words. “I believe that’s normal. We will be married someday. Who would care for her, if not I?”

She shook her head. “That’s not something you would have said a week ago.”

His lips twitched. “Why? Because of my personality?” He wasn’t oblivious to what was being said about him, and he didn’t deny that sometimes, he _could_ be rather temperamental.

“No.” Gumi sighed. “Well, yes. Partially. But mostly because of your past.” She was bustling around the room now, looking for any signs of dust, and he narrowed his eyes, watching her. “Your Highness, it’s no secret that you actively remove yourself from social situations. I can’t remember the last time you deigned to speak to a stranger of your own accord. So, for you to suddenly demonstrate concern for someone who is not a family member or a servant –”

“That’s enough,” he interrupted. She glanced up at him, looking puzzled, and he sighed. “It’s not that I’ve _changed_ overnight or something like that. I spoke to Gumo about this, and now I’ll tell you too – my father believes she might be the lost daughter of the Hatsune family.”

Gumi blinked. “Cinderella?” she asked, sounding surprised. “I suppose…I can see why His Majesty might assume that. She does resemble the late Duke somewhat. But the current Dowager Duchess said that both the Duke and his daughter perished –”

“In a fire. Yes.” Len looked at the tea, wondering if he should take another sip, but decided to spare his taste buds. “But then a girl no one has ever seen before, a girl with the characteristic teal hair of the Hatsune family, shows up at my ball insisting that her name is Cinderella. A girl who appears to be the same age as their dead daughter. It is unlikely to be mere coincidence.”

“So you plan to make her admit who she really is?” Gumi frowned. “That is easier said than done. There must be some pressing reason for her to hide her true identity.”

“Naturally. Which is why I’m playing a game.” He got up from the bed and stretched, letting out a sigh – it’d been a while since he last got a good night’s sleep. He would have to thank Cinderella for that later. The lullaby she had sung helped. “She struck me as the curious type, so I offered her a chance to find out all my deepest, darkest secrets. She took it, so maybe…”

“What kind of chance?” Her frown deepened. “Please tell me there were no bets involved.”

He shrugged. “You don’t need to worry. I’ve all intention of making her confess her secrets before that.” Gumi shot him a look of alarm, and he clarified. “It’s an exchange. If one of us ends up admitting our biggest secret before winter comes, then they will owe the winner a favour. It’s a simple game with simple rules, and I’m confident that I’ll get what I want.”

“And if neither of you admits your secrets before winter?” Gumi looked faintly disapproving. Then again, she had always been too proper and rigid to enjoy making bets like these.

“Then our engagement will be annulled.” She gasped, and he put up his hands, trying to placate her. “It’s not like I love her, and I doubt she has feelings for me either. It’ll be fine.”

“It’s not just that, Your Highness! It’s about your _image_ ,” she retorted. When was the last time he saw Gumi looking this frustrated? “If people find out that you two have annulled your engagement, they will say _terrible_ things.” She shook her head. “You cannot simply change your mind, not after making such a public proposal. It will reflect poorly on you!”

He almost snorted. “You’re thinking too much. I know all too well how idle the nobles can be. They will gossip and spread rumours for a few weeks before moving on to something new.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but he stared wordlessly at her and finally, she let out a sigh. “Then what of your game, Your Highness? What makes you so sure she will be truthful? Or that the secret she tells you will even be the one that you’re searching for?”

“Mm. She’s not stupid. If she truly _is_ Hatsune Miku, I doubt she will have a bigger secret than her real identity.” He smiled. “Such games rely on trust and blind faith, after all. But there’s no need to worry,” he added. “I will continue to investigate. This bet is meant to be a distraction, that’s all – it’d be good if something came out of it, but there’s no loss to me either way.”

Gumi paused. “A distraction?” she echoed. “From what? You digging around in her past?”

“She likes to read, doesn’t she?” He picked up the shirt she had chosen, holding it up against the window. “So does Gumo. And she seems to like him well enough.” He smiled. “I believe she’d be less cautious around him than me, so I want him to be my eyes and ears for now.”

“Does Gumo know?” She sounded like she had calmed down somewhat, now that she knew more about his plans. He hid a smile. Gumi was generally rather easy to figure out.

“I’ll tell him later. Though he’s already aware of my suspicions.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You too. Let me know everything she asks of you, or if you see something interesting. Nothing is too inconsequential. The sooner we find out the truth, the better.”

Gumi bowed her head. “Of course, Your Highness,” she said. “Well, I’ll leave you to get changed. Afterwards, please proceed to your study – Gumo has gotten ready your schedule for today, and he will let you know your obligations.” She inhaled. “His Majesty has an urgent appointment in the afternoon, so you’ll have to sit in on his behalf for a few meetings…”

“I’m sure Gumo can inform me when I see him. I’d like to enjoy the few minutes of freedom I have left before my responsibilities begin to hound me.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” With another bow, she backed out of the room, leaving him to get dressed. He shut his eyes, enjoying the way the sunlight caressed his skin. Mornings felt different when he was well-rested. Just the other night, he’d woken up with his hands around his throat, Rin’s name falling from his lips – _not_ having to go through that seemed…strange.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head and opened his eyes, his fingers darting down to the buttons of his nightwear. It was time to get ready for the day.

* * *

Miku was reading in the library, a pile of books beside her. Maybe _one_ of them would contain some information about her ancestry, though she was fast losing hope.

Even when she found references to her family, they tended to gloss over the concrete facts, focusing on the rumoured curse that was placed upon her bloodline instead. She didn’t need to know about that – she’d been told by her nannies and even her father about how she, as a descendant of the ill-fated Hatsunes, had to constantly look out for her safety.

It made her wonder sometimes if being born her father’s daughter was a contributing factor to her bad luck. She wasn’t one to believe in witchcraft and superstitions, but perhaps there _was_ some kernel of truth to what people claimed.

She closed the book, tired of so-called historians speculating about her family’s genealogy. It had been a mistake to wander down this aisle. Sifting through all this nonsense was giving her a terrible headache, and that wasn’t helpful when she needed to concentrate.

Holding back a yawn, she reached for the next book in her pile, then paused, recognising the unusual red cover. One of the grimoires Gumo had pointed out to her. She didn’t remember picking it up in the morning. Perhaps someone left it on this table and forgot to put it back.

Curious, she flipped it open, wondering if it was the same tome she glanced at yesterday. But the title was different. _Daemonium Imperium_ , it read, and she hesitated, her fingers lingering on the front page. She knew what that translated to, and it made her feel somewhat…uneasy.

She wasn’t sure if she believed in angels and demons. Still, something about this book made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the thought of dabbling in forces far beyond her control. Or maybe her headache was just making her less receptive to new knowledge. Either way, a strange sense of conflict arose within her – should she open this grimoire? Should she not?

At that moment, someone cleared their throat and she looked up to see Romeo settling in the chair opposite hers, his gaze fixed on the grimoire. She immediately snatched her hand away, almost as though she’d been burnt. “That’s an interesting book to be reading, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t choose it. It just appeared on the table.” She knew it sounded like she was scrabbling for excuses, and she fully expected him to make some kind of snide remark; instead, he exhaled and reached out to close the grimoire, pushing it away from them.

“It’s certainly not something you should pay attention to. Strange things happen in this place sometimes.” She didn’t know if that was meant to be a joke or a threat, but before she had to figure out a response, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, a small smile curving his lips. “It’s time to get to work, Cinderella. You’ve spent long enough evading your responsibilities.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve been evading _any_ responsibilities.” Her words came out sharper than she intended, and she pressed her lips together, trying to push her annoyance aside. The lack of sleep was making her irritable. “Anyway. How can I make myself useful today?”

She could feel his gaze practically boring into her, and she wondered if she had sounded too brusque. “For today, I’d like you to sort through the letters the palace received. It’s a simple enough task and it should provide you with some understanding of our national affairs.” He cocked his head. “Gumo is usually the one who helps me with this, so if you need any assistance you can ask him…not that I think you’ll need it, of course.”

His final words were spoken with a hint of a smirk. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or if he legitimately believed she was capable of handling the letters on her own. It didn’t sound _that_ difficult, but she had seen the pile of envelopes on Romeo's desk yesterday and she had the suspicion that it wouldn’t be as simple a task as it sounded. “Fine. I can do that.”

“Let’s go to my study, then. We have a long day ahead of us.” His expression soured and she couldn’t help but giggle. For a supposed workaholic, he was certainly averse to work. He rose from his chair, giving her an expectant look, and she hesitated, glancing at her pile of books.

Romeo noticed her pause. “Gumo will sort those out later. Are you not done with them?” He picked up one of the books from her stack, flipping through the pages. “ _Bloodlines Through the Ages_. I’m surprised you want to read this drivel. The author was charged by the courts for slander and ill gossip.” He sighed. “There are better books to read if you want to know about our history. Gumo can show you around the library if he hasn’t already done so.”

“Oh, he has. And he did try to recommend some books to me, but they were…well, some of the pages were torn out. I was trying to find ways to supplement the gap in my knowledge.”

“Really?” He blinked. “Who could have done something so cruel? Gumo would never forgive the perpetrator.” She wondered if he was genuinely surprised – something about his reaction felt suspicious, but before she could place a finger on it he took her hand and began leading her away from the library, his grip on her firm so that she couldn’t run back to the table.

The walk to his study was silent, almost uncomfortable. She stared at the back of his head, her heart pounding – she felt nervous, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was the pressure of helping Romeo with his work. Maybe it was the lack of rest. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t done anything even _remotely_ intellectual in the past six years. Well, it didn’t matter the reason – either way, the nerves were upsetting her stomach, and she had to force herself to breathe.

She didn’t have any reason to care. She didn’t want to be responsible for a country. All she wanted was freedom from her stepfamily, and now that she had it, she shouldn’t have to think so hard anymore. If being royalty wasn’t to her liking, she could always just run away…

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. She was too much of a perfectionist to let things go without trying her best, and anyway, if she wanted the royal family’s favour, then she _would_ have to care. It’d be nothing but beneficial for His Majesty to like her. Trying to reclaim her inheritance was an uphill battle, and she’d need all the help she could get.

They reached the study, but before he opened the door, Romeo turned towards her, a strange look on his face – she stared back, and at that moment all she could focus on was the feeling of his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Suddenly, she thought about the vulnerability he showed when he reached for her in his sleep, how he called another woman’s name while trapped in the throes of his nightmares. She thought about how easy it might be to _hurt_ him.

His secrets. If only she knew them. That might give her some leverage to work with. Perhaps something in his room would shed light on the past he so desperately tried to avoid. “You remember our game, yes?” he asked. “I wanted to ask you a question today if you’d let me.”

“Ask away.” There was nothing he could ask that would make her reveal her identity, and she met his gaze unblinkingly, already prepared to smile while finding ways to evade the truth.

“Why are you so curious about the Four Houses?” His eyes were searching. She hesitated – it was a question she had anticipated, but he looked so genuinely curious that for a moment, she didn’t quite know how to reply. “It’s so… _boring_. Just four families constantly at each other’s throats, manipulating everything from the shadows. Why would you want to get involved in that?”

“Were you from one of the Four Houses? Before you became the prince?” She could see the distaste in the twist of his mouth, and he blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You sound like you have some personal experience with their…politics,” she added.

“Answer my question and I’ll tell you.” He didn’t smile, and she had to glance away, shaken by the intensity in his eyes – it was strange to see him being so serious.

“I find it interesting that so much power is concentrated in the hands of four families. It seems like a recipe for trouble.” She frowned. “But they have an almost mythical status, so I wanted to understand what made them so special. Especially the Kagamine and the Hatsune families.”

His expression flickered before it settled into a placid smile. “That sounds reasonable. This system indeed makes little sense. Even the idea of ruling is flawed. Power is given not to the ones most worthy, but instead those fortunate enough to be born a child of royalty.”

“Yes.” She didn’t know what else to say. There was a steely edge to his tone, and she had the feeling that she was treading in dangerous territory. So she decided to change the topic. “And what about my question? Were you previously from one of the Four Houses?”

It wasn’t a significant deviation, but it was enough to make him glance at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. Like he was struggling with something. “I was and always will be a member of the Four Houses. I am His Majesty's only son – it is not a right so easily relinquished.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very roundabout way of answering the question. You could have just said yes.” He shrugged but didn’t respond otherwise. “You weren’t from the Kamui family?”

“Hm, I’m not answering that. Only one question a day, right?” He grinned, his mood abruptly lightening – it was startling how quickly the frown fell from his face, and he took advantage of her surprise to pull her into the study, signalling the end of their conversation.

His study was almost as big as his bedroom. There was an elegant desk at one corner of the room, and she noticed an armchair and a smaller table some distance away from it. “You can sit there,” he said, gesturing at the armchair. “It’ll be easier for you to help me if we’re close to each other, so for now you will share my study. You can leave once we get your room ready.”

“My room?” She perked up, interested in the possibility of having personal space.

“Yes. Your study.” There was a knowing look in his eyes. “I suppose you’re excited at the prospect of escaping my watch, but you’ll still have to share my room and my bed, so don’t get carried away now.” She deflated a little, but – well, having her own study was better than nothing.

“The table looks a little low, though,” she observed. While the armchair looked comfortable – it was invitingly plush, with a frilly cushion waiting on the seat for her – the table was so small that it was laughable. It looked more suited for afternoon tea than for long hours of work.

“Indeed, it does.” He frowned, tapping his finger against his chin. “How about this? To avoid any backaches, you could sit on my lap. I guarantee it is significantly more comfortable.”

She spluttered. “Excuse me?” Her voice came out shriller than she liked. “I can’t possibly sit on your lap while working! It’s so… _improper_!” Her face warmed at the mere thought. Romeo just eyed her, looking completely at ease – he seemed to enjoy how flustered she was, and it took all her self-control to not pick up the nearest object and throw it at his insufferably smug face.

“Sounds perfectly fine to me. We’re engaged, after all. Most couples have done far worse.” It was obvious that he was deriving some kind of sick pleasure from her discomfort. She briefly considered whether integrating into the royal family and preserving her image was worth this level of humiliation. Romeo approached her, and instinctively, she took a step back.

He paused, his eyes narrowing, and she swallowed, the tension in the room suddenly so thick that it was almost suffocating. “Are you afraid of me, Cinderella?”

Why did he have to sound so miserable? It wasn’t like she’d fall for his act. “I’m not _afraid_ of you. It’s just that – I think we barely know each other, so we shouldn’t be too intimate. Yet.” She had to add that, just in case he tried to say they would someday become husband and wife.

She knew that. She knew there was a very real possibility they would end up married. And she wasn’t averse to the idea – she just didn’t think this was appropriate. Wasn’t it too early? “But I was offering nothing more than a solution. There were no thoughts of intimacy whatsoever.”

“Sitting on your lap isn’t intimate?” Like she'd believe that. He nodded, looking perfectly serious – she couldn’t tell if he truly felt this way or if he was making an awful joke. “Even if you had no ill intentions, that’s still a terrible idea.”

“Well, this is all we have, so give me a better alternative.” She couldn’t help suspecting that he had done this on purpose – that he had provided her with a small table just to force her into a corner. But as he’d soon find out, she wasn’t the kind to be daunted by such setbacks.

“I’m fine with using this table. I don’t need anything else. And I certainly won’t get a backache – though, even if I did, rest assured that I won’t complain.” She tried to inject confidence into her words, but he raised an eyebrow, still looking unconvinced. “I swear! I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not about your discomfort, Cinderella. As your fiancé, how could I let you suffer in silence when it’s within my means to prevent that?” He shook his head. “This certainly won’t do.”

She glared at him. He must be doing this on purpose. “Fine. I have a solution,” she declared, and he watched as she strode over to the armchair, picking up the cushion. She studied it for a moment, then dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. Cautiously, she sat on the cushion and was pleased to find that the table was now at a comfortable height. “See? This works!”

He stared at her for a moment, seated on his study floor, before he burst out laughing. “Yes, you’re right. It works.” He crouched so that they were on the same level, his blue eyes staring into hers, and she flinched back, unused to her personal space being invaded like this. “This must be the first time I’ve seen a lady willing to sacrifice her chair just to sit on the floor.”

“You will find that I’m not like other ladies.” She managed to school her expression back into casual nonchalance. “Isn’t that why you proposed to me?”

He nodded. “Indeed.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, much to her surprise. “And I don’t think I’d regret that decision. You’ll certainly spark change in this dreary place.”

Her heart thudded, and she brought her hand back to her chest. “I don’t think someone like you had the time to feel bored around here.”

“I don’t have much free time, that’s true. But that doesn’t exclude me from feeling things. Or observing people.” His gaze hardened. “You’ll see for yourself eventually, the way the nobles pander to our every desire just to get their way. The insincerity of it all.” His words were icy. “It would be nice to take them down a peg or two, but my father would never allow that.”

She didn’t know what to say. She’d always sensed a hint of ruthlessness simmering under his polite smiles and his playful exterior, but it was the first time she heard him being so blunt…at least in the context of other people. A memory of the way he’d confronted her after her audience with the king flashed through her mind, and she shivered. “Is it truly that awful?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” His lip curled slightly, almost a sneer. “It’s pathetic. But this is how the world runs, yes? The weak grovel to the strong. The living trample upon the bones of the dead.” His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “The nobles enjoy their fruitless gossip. There are far too many rumours floating around, and most of them wouldn’t even try to ingratiate themselves with me were it not for my royal status. They left me to rot, after all. Once upon a time.”

“They…left you to rot?” It seemed like he had some personal vendetta against the aristocracy; there was too much bitterness in his voice for it to be mere annoyance.

“Yes. They did.” He left it at that, and for a while, neither of them said a word. Then he cleared his throat and smiled. She thought it looked forced. “We’ve squandered enough time talking about unimportant things. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

She nodded, making herself comfortable on her cushion, and he went to his desk – when he came back, there was a small pile of letters in his arms. “Just look through this stack and flag the interesting ones. For example, invitations from foreign dignitaries, or requests to see His Majesty if it comes from one of the three bodies I mentioned yesterday.”

“And the rest?” She watched as he deposited the letters on her table, trying to figure out how many there were. The sheer volume of them was rather daunting.

“You can put them aside for now. We’ll take a look at them if His Majesty's schedule permits. Gumi will let us know later in the afternoon, when either she or Gumo brings us our afternoon tea.” He rattled this off so quickly that she almost missed what he said.

“What will you be doing, then?” she asked as she took hold of the letter opener he offered her, slitting open the first envelope. He paused, in the midst of returning to his desk, then glanced over his shoulder at her, a carefree grin on his face.

“Work, of course. Is that even a question?” She huffed and looked away, wondering why she even bothered. He could keep his secrets if he so wished; she had enough on her plate for now.


	18. Chapter 18

They worked in silence for a while. Miku quickly got used to things – she would open the envelope, scan through the letter and then decide which pile it belonged to.

Most letters went into the “to be read” pile. There were so many invitations that they were all beginning to blur – who knew that His Majesty was such a popular dinner guest? She was quite sure that he wouldn’t attend most of these events anyway.

Which made her wonder why the nobles bothered to send these invitations at all. Perhaps it was out of politeness rather than any real desire for the king to be present. She slit open yet another cream envelope, humming quietly to herself as she did so – unconsciously, her gaze flicked up and settled on Romeo.

Romeo was writing something, his chin propped on the back of his hand. She had no idea what he was working on, but she assumed it was something important. As she watched, he dipped his quill into his inkwell, then all of a sudden, he glanced up at her, their gazes meeting.

She ducked her head, returning to the letter, not wanting him to think that she was ogling him. Far from it. But he was significantly more interesting to look at, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She stared obstinately at the elegant cursive on the parchment, not quite reading the words, but then she noticed who the sender was. She frowned, checking the name once again just to be sure.

 _Utatane Piko_. The Viscount. Shaking her head, she read from the top and realised the letter was addressed to His Royal Highness – not the king, then. To Romeo. “You got a letter,” she said, and it was strange to hear her voice again when silence had reigned in this room for the past hour. “From the Viscount of Lexane.”

“Oh?” He didn’t look up from whatever he was reading. “What does he want?”

“He’s inviting you to go hunting with him. Tomorrow morning,” she said, tracing the dried ink with her index finger. “Would you even have time for such a thing?”

“For Piko? I certainly do.” Romeo stretched, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll simply have to reshuffle my priorities, but Gumo can help me with that. Piko is not one to waste time on frivolous activities. He must have something important to discuss.”

“Hm. Have fun then.” If he went hunting tomorrow, then she would likely have some time to herself, and she would be sure to find a good use for it.

“Oh, I’d like you to come with me.” He smiled, and she narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “It’s important for you to expand your social circle now that you’re the princess-to-be, and where better to start than the noblemen you already know?”

It was difficult to argue with that. She sighed. “Fine. Though I’m not fond of hunting. Where is the fun in shooting helpless animals on horseback?”

“It’s a bonding activity.” His smile turned saccharine sweet, and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine. “Death is the great equaliser, after all. Through false acts of mercy, we get reminded of how fragile our shared mortality is.”

“That’s an interesting take on things,” she commented, turning her attention back to the letter. He chuckled, soft and wondering, and the parchment wrinkled between her fingers. Something about his answer just rubbed her the wrong way.

“Could you pass me that? I’ll write a reply later.” She briefly considered throwing the letter at him but figured it probably wouldn’t reach his desk. Instead, she got up from the floor, brushing her skirt down, and walked over to him.

He watched her, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “You know, my offer still stands. Having you on my lap would probably make my work a lot less tedious.”

She smiled at him. “No.” Then she slapped the letter down and turned away, ignoring his laughter. Good to know that he gleaned so much amusement from her reaction.

Miku could feel warmth rushing up to her face as she walked back to her table and she hated herself for being so easily flustered by the mention of intimacy, but she honestly had no idea how to handle him. She needed to figure out a way to make him _stop_. His ridiculous innuendos were starting to get on her nerves.

But what could she do? She couldn’t possibly give him a taste of his own medicine, not when she knew nothing of romance – he was clearly experienced in this domain, while she had never even held a man’s hand before he came along. Her father didn’t count.

She sat at her table once more, sliding the blade of the letter opener through another envelope – this one was a generic invitation to an afternoon tea party, and she placed it in her “to be read” pile. So far, there were only two she had sorted into “worthy of His Majesty’s attention”, and both of them came from the Chamber of Commerce.

This was so tedious. She was growing dull with boredom. Once again, her gaze flitted up to observe Romeo. He was reading something, and she stared at him for a while, studying his graceful, refined features. The face of a prince. There was no doubt he had noble blood, but still, she wondered which family he used to belong to.

Didn’t he say that she would probably learn his name if she searched the palace hard enough? Maybe she ought to do that – more information never hurt anyone. And she might end up stumbling across a dirty secret or two.

She even had an idea of where she could start looking. She smiled, twirling the letter opener around her fingers – now she just had to find an excuse to leave the study.

* * *

Around noon, Gumi and Gumo came in with lunch. Miku’s stomach growled, and she winced, trying to avoid Romeo’s knowing smirk. He was insufferable.

“Cinderella, you shouldn’t be sitting on the floor,” Gumo said, sounding reproachful. “We would have found a better chair for you if this one was not to your liking.”

He placed a tray on the table as he spoke, and her nose twitched, the tantalising scent of roasted meat wafting towards her. The palace chefs certainly didn’t cut corners. “I have no issue with sitting on the floor. The carpet is quite comfortable.”

“It’s simply not proper, Your Highness,” he rebuked, and though his tone was gentle she flinched at the title he used to address her. Another reminder of the situation she had gotten herself into. “We are still waiting to receive your desk and chair, but in the meantime, Gumi and I will try to find a more suitable replacement.”

“Receive my desk and chair?” She blinked, confused by his statement, and Gumo nodded, pouring out a cup of tea for her. He followed up with a splash of milk.

“The palace put in an order for your furniture with the best carpenter in town. We will receive the goods within the next couple of weeks, so in the meantime, I’m afraid we must ask you to bear with the inconvenience. His Highness was quite choosy about how much space you were allowed to take up in here, so there were some…restrictions.”

Gumo glanced at Romeo, who just stared back at them, one eyebrow raised. “You know I need a lot of space to walk around! I can’t focus if I’m just sitting here all day.” He picked up a fork. “That’s why we agreed to give her a study of her own, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so it’s _your_ fault that I’m stuck here with this table?” she said, shooting him a glare. He shrugged, stabbing his fork into a piece of roast beef and popping it in his mouth. “You’re such a…” She tried to find the right words to describe him. A horrible human being? An insufferable miser? A selfish, complacent coxcomb?

He interrupted before she could decide on the best insult. “I did offer you a solution. One which you refused to take, if I may remind you.” He watched her over the rim of his teacup, his blue eyes gleaming, and she was tempted to stalk over and shake him. Though knowing Romeo, he’d just find a way to make her even more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Gumi and Gumo stepped in to defuse the tension. “Is there anything else you would like us to do, Your Highness?” Gumi asked, tactfully distracting them – Miku shook her head, her lips pressed firmly together, trying to avoid Romeo’s gaze.

“Ah, I have something. Get one of the servants to deliver this to the Viscount of Lexane’s residence. It’s urgent, so I would appreciate it if you could spare someone to do this now.” Romeo picked up a cream envelope, sealed shut with the royal family’s crest. Gumo nodded, taking the letter from his hand. “Help me arrange my schedule tomorrow as well. I’ll be hunting in the morning. My fiancée will accompany us.”

Gumo shot her a curious look. “You know how to hunt, Cinderella?”

She shook her head, glaring down at her teacup. “His Highness wanted me to expand my social circle. I’ve never gone hunting in my life.”

“His Highness? What a way to address me. I didn’t know we were on such formal terms with each other.” He sounded amused, but she refused to rise to his bait, continuing to stare at her tea. “Gumi, you can prepare an appropriate outfit for her, yes?”

“Cul is likely to have something on hand. I will send someone to her shop. This would be an urgent request though, so it’ll cost extra…” Gumi huffed. “Your Highness, you need to stop adding to the palace’s expenditure. Your sugar intake is already –”

“I don’t want to listen to you nagging about my diet, Gumi.” Romeo took a sip of his tea and grimaced, sticking out his tongue. “It’s so bitter.”

“I’ve already put in a sugar cube!” Gumi scolded, ignoring Romeo's pout. “We shall take our leave for now – Gumo and I will come back for the plates later.” She glanced at Miku with a reassuring smile, and she felt a little comforted knowing that the two of them would return. Gumi seemed to know all too well what Romeo was like.

“All right. See you later.” Romeo waved as they left, his attention already drifting back to his work. He was still holding his fork in one hand, and as she watched, he stabbed yet another piece of roast beef.

Then his gaze flicked up, blue eyes meeting hers, and she froze, her breath catching. His lips curved into a smile. “Want some? It’s the same as what you have, though.”

“I know that,” she said, trying not to snap. Something about the look in his eyes was making her antsy. “Are you going to eat and work at the same time?”

“Hm? Yes, I usually do. But if you’d like to chat, I can make an exception.” He twirled his fork around, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, focusing on her meal instead. “Is there a burning question on your mind today, Cinderella?”

“What is your relationship with the Viscount of Lexane? It doesn’t seem like you two are just any old friends.” Piko had said that they _used_ to be good friends and that once Romeo became the prince, he stopped having time for anyone else. Yet the moment he received that letter, he agreed to go hunting despite his busy schedule…

Something wasn’t adding up here. “Piko?” Romeo blinked. “We’re friends and former schoolmates. We go back a long way.” Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone too fast for her to guess how he was feeling. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just thought I ought to find out more about him before we go hunting tomorrow.” She bit into some roast beef as she spoke. It was juicy and flavourful, seasoned with spices and black pepper. “Surely you must have interesting stories to share.”

“Interesting stories…” he murmured. “I do have a few. Mostly involving Piko’s relative lack of aptitude at sports. But I’m not sure if that’s something you’d care to know.”

“His lack of aptitude at sports?” But Piko was the one who had suggested hunting, which was…well, a sport. Romeo nodded, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Yes. Hunting happens to be the one sport he’s any good at,” he said, and she had to wonder if he was somehow able to read her mind. “He’s no good at swinging a bat or rowing a boat, but he has excellent aim and is also a talented equestrian.”

Equestrian. She shuddered at the mention of horses, her hand stilling over her plate, and if Romeo noticed, he didn’t say anything. “You only met him in Easton?”

“We knew each other before that. His family is prestigious, after all. And you should know how the nobles work. We’re a very tight-knitted group.” His mouth twisted. “But we grew closer in school. He isn’t like the rest of his relatives, which is a relief.”

“What’s wrong with the Utatane family?” she asked, picking through the vegetables on her plate. Thankfully, they were covered in a light vinaigrette that provided the boiled carrots with some much-needed taste.

“You know by now that they are a family of historians, yes?” She nodded, chewing on a carrot slice. “They can be a little… _eccentric_. Perhaps that comes with continuously pursuing the past. Digging through old events and seeing patterns that aren’t always there.” He picked up his tea. “Piko is stubborn to a fault, but at least he’s sane.”

His blasé tone was rather disconcerting. “You mean his family is…?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure how much of our history you know, but there are long-standing rumours about the Utatane family and their association with witchcraft. During the previous Inquisition, a few of his ancestors were accused of devil worship. But of course, nothing happened to them since they were aristocrats.”

“Yet you chose to befriend him?” She didn’t mean for the question to slip out like that, and when she realised what she had said, she abruptly pressed her lips together, fully aware of how rude she must sound.

He didn’t seem bothered though. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. They’re just rumours, aren’t they? And he’s a decent enough person when you talk to him.”

“A decent enough person, huh?” she mumbled. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“Did you say something?” he asked, and she looked up, meeting his gaze – he was staring at her, his fork resting on his bottom lip, and she shook her head, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. “Oh. Okay. Anyway, it’d be good if you two could get along.”

“Because he’s your friend?” He nodded, pushing his empty plate aside, and she had to wonder how he managed to demolish his lunch so quickly. “Piko told me that you two don’t talk much anymore, though. Ever since you became the prince.”

“Not much I can do about that, is there?” He exhaled, leaning back against his chair. “But I always try my best to accommodate him whenever he requests a meeting. After all, he’s not one to look you up without a good reason. He loathes time-wasters.”

She suddenly recalled the way Piko had watched her in the carriage and his gorgeous eyes, one blue and one green; the way his stare seemed to pierce her very soul, how it felt like he was almost able to read her mind. She had to take a deep breath to calm herself down.

“You’re surprisingly interested in Piko. Would you rather marry him instead?” Romeo asked, jolting her out of her thoughts. She hastily shook her head, averting her gaze – it was impossible to tell if he was joking or not, but she didn’t want him to see her face. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed if you prefer him…”

She thought he sounded displeased, but when she snuck a glance at him, he looked perfectly calm. It was probably her imagination, then. “I don’t want to _marry_ him. He just seems interesting.” And perhaps tomorrow would provide a chance for her to weasel more information out of Piko.

The two of them couldn’t have been friends for this long without exchanging some secrets, right? He sighed. “Well, don’t believe everything he tells you. Piko is notoriously good at mixing fact with fiction. He could sell a blind man reading glasses if he put his mind to it.”

“You know, for someone who claims to be good friends with the viscount, you sure have a lot of warnings about him.” She remembered him saying that Piko wouldn’t make a good suitor due to his _intensity_ , whatever that meant.

He laughed, picking up his quill. “I know what he’s like, so I can handle him. You, on the other hand…you aren’t familiar with the noble families around here, are you? I’m afraid you’ll end up swindled by him. He has the most remarkable silver tongue.”

“You’re quite persuasive yourself. I’m not sure if you’re even telling me the truth half the time.” She frowned, and he simply smiled, his lips curving up gently – it seemed unfair that someone so deceptive could be so beautiful.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He began to write, his voice distracted. “You can rest assured that I’ve yet to lie to you. Nor do I intend to start anytime soon.”

“That’s good to know.” Not that she fully believed him. Their bet provided too much incentive for them to lie to each other. Even though he said they should honour the intent of the game, only a fool would take what he said at face value.

“We’re on the same page, then.” He paused and looked up at her, his eyes searching. “You should finish your lunch and get back to work. That pile of letters isn’t going to sort itself.” His lips crooked up again. “Gumo would have finished all this within an hour…”

She bristled, unable to help herself. “I’m learning, aren’t I?”

“Indeed, you are.” He chuckled. “And I appreciate your effort.” She could hear the ring of sincerity in his words, and for a moment she faltered, unsure of how to respond. In the end, she decided to return to work – it seemed safer than trying to come up with an answer.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence was only interrupted by the sound of paper rustling and the occasional scratch of Romeo’s quill. She was almost done with the letters, her lunch having long been eaten when there was a gentle knock on the door and Gumo entered the study, this time without his sister.

“Your Highness. It’s time for your afternoon meeting. The one His Majesty requested that you attend on his behalf.” Gumo picked up their empty plates as he spoke, moving quietly and efficiently around the room.

Romeo sighed. “Who is it this time? If it’s yet another High Council meeting…”

“Not quite. The Sakine family representative is here, and from my understanding, they have a special request to make of the crown. I do not know the details.”

“Oh? Them again.” Romeo brushed down his shirt, rising from his chair. “Very well. I hope it’s a quick one. I have a few more proposals to look through today, and I hope that I can finish them early. I’ve been thinking about visiting the town market.”

“You know we would _all_ prefer that you don’t visit the market,” Gumo deadpanned, and Miku blinked at them, curious – Romeo shrugged, making a face, but there was no further elaboration. “The Earl is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

“Okay. I’m coming.” He turned towards her. “Why don’t you sit in? It’ll give you an idea of the kind of politics we regularly deal with.”

This sounded far more interesting than being stuck here, doing whatever paperwork was thrown her way, and she rose from the floor, patting down her skirt. “How long will this take?” she asked, though she didn’t care much for the answer – the longer it lasted, the better. Anything that allowed her to stay out of this stifling study.

“I don’t know. It depends on how stubborn the Sakine family is.” He walked out from behind his desk, his brow furrowed. “They have always been ridiculously hot-tempered. But if it’s the Earl, he should be easier to manage.”

She nodded, now curious about what the earl was like. Despite being part of the Founding Four, she never really met the other families before, and she wanted to learn more about them. Her father had always been rather protective, and he died just one year short of her debut – afterwards, she was never allowed to step out of the manor, so here was her chance to witness and learn.

“Oh.” Romeo suddenly stopped, his eyes going wide. “Wait. You don’t have your ring.”

“Would that be a problem?” After she ran away from the ball, they never spoke about his proposal. There just didn’t seem to be a need to; after all, neither of them loved the other, so she didn’t see a need for a ring.

“Possibly.” Gumo looked like he wanted to laugh, but he bit his lip, ignoring Romeo’s look of exasperation. “The Earl is a notorious womaniser, and he’s sure to notice that you aren’t wearing a ring…but he wouldn’t dare to try anything with His Highness' fiancée, I believe. Only a brave, brave man would attempt something so foolish.”

“And Meito is a classic example of a fool,” Romeo muttered, sweeping out of the room without even a backwards glance. She blinked, then glanced at Gumo, who shrugged and placed a finger against his lips.

She decided it was probably best for her sake to not ask any questions. Instead, Miku left the study, following closely behind Gumo as he led the way to the drawing room, Romeo some distance ahead of them. She wondered what this meeting would be like.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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